The Forest Huntress
by outoftheblack
Summary: On their way to the Mountain, the dwarves get caught in an Orc raid, injuring Thorin. They are told to seek the help of a huntress living in a remote cabin. She doesn't know it yet, but she will be changed forever by this sudden turn of events.
1. chapter 1

Chapter One: Gwen

The fire is beautiful in the evening light. It dances and flickers across the ground, tame but wild. As I look into it I can see shapes. People, people I know. People long gone now.

As each flame dances, I see them. I can still remember their faces - I can still remember how they made me feel.

I am so caught up in my thoughts I don't even hear the shouts that come from behind me at first, but when I do I tear my eyes away from the fire and spring up, suddenly awake and alert.

"Who's there?" I call out into the night, drawing my blade. It glints in the firelight, harsh silver. I can still see traces of blood I wiped off just this morning.

There is not a sound for a moment, until I hear more shouts and see figures in the dark, running in a frantic manner.

"Who is it?" I repeat, demandingly.

"Quick! We don't have much time!" Yells a voice, low and urgent.

"Get him over here!"

I advance slowly into the shadows, towards one of the figures who are facing away from me. In one fluid motion I have my blade pressed to their neck.

"Who are you and what do you want?" I ask sharply, pressing my blade further, but not quite enough to draw blood.

"I assure you, my lady, we mean you no harm." Comes another voice. They step into the fire light.

They are a dwarf, with a snow white beard and kind, wise eyes.

"Balin, at your service." He bows.

I don't say anything.

"Forgive me, but we are in a dire situation. One of our company is in grave danger, very sick. I fear the worst. We must ask your for your hospitality, and your help."

I repress the urge to narrow my eyes. Is he in earnest? Or is he trying to take advantage of me? I can't help it. I'm wired to be untrusting.

But I can't help think of a time when i was desperate, and I needed help. Would it really be so bad to aid these dwarves?

"I know you're skeptical of our intention, but we would not come unless we truly needed your help. We have been directed here by Gandalf."

Gandalf. Why…?

"And who is the sick one, pray?" I ask.

"Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin Oakenshield. Thorin Oakenshield.

Son of Thror, son of Thrain. The King Under the Mountain. I would know that name anywhere.

I would know to help him.

"Follow me." I say and direct them to the cabin.

The dwarves crowd into the small room which I have always found big for myself alone. They lay Thorin on the table.

When I see his state it is all I can do to not blanch. His shoulder is deeply wounded by a spear or something of that ilk, and he is pale and feverish, drifting in and out of consciousness. He has already lost a lot of blood. A drop drips onto the wood, and another, until a small puddle is formed. I need to work quickly, before things get even worse.

We work in silence, a few of us in the room. The others I have long ago shown into the sitting room to enjoy some ale, although that is the last thing they want to be doing, now it is just Balin, Oin and Bofur and I that are fixing Thorin's wound. He is very feverish, and with each moment that passes the fever becomes more distinct.

"I fear he is becoming worse by the second." Mutters Balin worriedly.

"We need to draw the heat downwards from his head. Someone warm his feet." I say, wringing out another blood soaked cloth.

As I work carefully and determinedly, I remind myself that I am dealing with the life of the future King Under the Mountain. What if he dies in my house? The thought makes me shiver, even though I barely know him. I cannot be responsible for his demise. I could not live with myself, knowing I could not save a king, regardless of whether I know him or not.

Through the night Thorin lays sweating, shaking and groaning, gritting his teeth through the undeniable pain he is feeling. As the first signs of morning light appear, the fever dims. For this I am thankful. Now we can focus more on his wound.

I am told by Kili that he was in fact wounded by a spear.

The wound is not too deep but is wide, and we have to make sure infection does not spread. Once we stem the bleeding we clean the wound and I bandage it carefully so as not to expose it to the elements.

As I wrap the thin fabric over his shoulder, a soft sound escapes from his mouth. I glance over at him and he opens his eyes hazily, his blue ones finding mine.

He forms a word with his mouth, so slowly it is imperceptible and inaudible, but I can't question him because he then closes his eyes and drifts back to unconsciousness, and I forget it happened for a while.

We leave Thorin on the table rest, and take turns to watch him. When it is my turn I sit and watch him sleep. His face is weary and battle worn, but something inside me makes a little flutter. He is as handsome as I've been lead to know.

I cast my mind away from such thoughts. I should be focusing on helping him get better, even if I don't even know the company, not focusing on his looks. Gandalf sent them here. I trust Gandalf, even though his motives and ideas can sometimes be...questionable.

Soon sleep caresses my eyelids and I drift off uneasily.

I'm the first up. The dwarves are all snoring in the sitting room, and the noise is loud enough to be heard from outside, a rumbling that could easiy challenge a volcano.

Thorin has still not stirred. I cannot help the itching feeling of worry. What if we were too late, and he has passed in his sleep?

I stand quietly and listen for his breathing over the thunderous sound of dwarves snoring. Luckily I can see his chest rising and falling shallowly. Relief washes over me and I leave him for a moment to go outside and collect my thoughts. Sleep has not cleared my mind.

It is fresh and dewy that morning and the air is good for hunting. I scamper back inside and get my bow and arrow. I already have my blade with me. In fact, I don't remember the last time I took it off, not even to go to bed.

Crossing into the forest, I am light on my feet, listening for signs of life. In the distance I see a deer. It is a beautiful one, but I know my stock is low and I have to find food for these dwarves. There are many of them to feed, and one cannot forsake the notorious appetite of dwarves.

Minutes later I am dragging the deer carcass back towards the house. It is very heavy, heavier than I usually take. I used to cut what I wanted from it and leave the rest in the forest, but I can't risk that now. If orcs cross through they will find the carcass and know someone lives nearby.

Finally I arrive back at the cabin and rest the deer on the front steps. Kili and Fili, Thorin's nephews, are up and they come to help me with the deer.

"You caught that yourself?" Fili says, surprised. I nod.

Kili raises his eyebrows and grins at me. "Not a bad effort." I chuckle at his jest, and it feels good to laugh for once. I forgot how it felt.

They help me drag it up the steps. Thorin still occupies the table so I can't take it in just yet, but the insects will get to it if I don't start working on it.

We have to get Bofur and Dwalin to help us shift Thorin off the table and onto the rug in front of the fire in the sitting room. Then, we all haul the deer up onto the table and I begin to cut it, and remove the parts that cannot be eaten. When I am satisfied, I soon start making a stew with fresh herbs from the garden. The smell is making the dwarves hungry, but they will have to wait. Uncooked deer is not good to eat, obviously, and I know too well the consequences of ignoring that fact.

When the stew is done, I put it into healthy sized portions and hand it out along with some bread I can spare. I set aside a bowl for Thorin when he wakes up. If he wakes up, a voice echoes in my mind.

He does not wake until near midday, when the company is out fishing for trout for tonight's supper. I wanted to get some peace, for a while. I'm too used to living by myself, and the sudden onslaught of company is too much.

As I kneel next to him by the hearth, he slowly opens his eyes, and frowns. He looks around, and then slowly turns his head to gaze at me under his eyebrows, and I'm met with piercing blue eyes, the colour of a twilight sky, liquid blue.

This is the first time I've properly had a look at him - last night was a bit frantic, with him being covered in blood and wounds and dirt, and we were pretty focused on trying not to let him bleed to death.

But now he's cleaned up, I can see the strong, muscular forearms, and the layers of clothes, and chain mail, and heavy boots. He has cascading wavy hair, with some streaks of silver, and the way he is looking at me, inquisitively, would make any dwarrowdam - nay, anyone - go weak at the knees, but I just return his stare. I'm not going to let myself be charmed by this king, even if he is as mighty as they say he is, until I know enough about him.

"Where am I ?"

Then I hear his deep, sleep roughened voice, and almost go back on my decision - almost.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Thorin

"Where am I?" I feel myself ask. My voice is weaker than I would like it to be, due to the searing pain in my shoulder.

It feels as if someone is dragging boulders around insidd my head, occasionally thudding against my skull.

I can't even remember what happened. There are just flashes of blood and light, and then nothing.

I consider dropping my head back down onto the rug, when I notice something, or rather, someone.

Next to me, kneels a dark haired...girl? Woman? Something in-between. She wears a brown tunic and has a blade strapped to her belt. I realise, in my pained state, it still has fresh blood on it. I start to panic. Where are the others? What happened?

She seems to see how worried I am.

"My name is Gwendolyn." She says.

Gwendolyn...I match the name to her face.

"I believe you were caught in an Orc raid last night, and...well, you didn't fare as well as your comrades." Her eyes travel down my neck, to my shoulder. They burn into my skin there, as if trying to press the pain out, and then they flick back up to my eyes.

"They brought you here, at Gandalf's orders."

It takes me a while to process all this new information, but the one thing I can't shake is that she is of the race of men. My grandfather always told me that they were weak and not to be trusted entirely, only tolerated.

"We have not had good dealings with them in the past. They have cowered before from things that they should not have shrunk from, because they do not have bravery that we possess. You must be cautious around them, wary..."I exhale slowly through my nose, deciding that I should find out now whether she can be trusted, or suffer the consequences.

I try to get up, but the agony in my shoulder makes me grunt in pain. She presses a hand to my other shoulder, pushing me back down.

"You cannot get up. You are injured."

"Where are the others?" I demand.

"They are trout - fishing in the stream. If you are hungry, I have food prepared. Would you like it?"

I nod slowly and she gets up to fetch the food. I realise I am hungry, beneath all my battle weariness and pain.

I recall it now. Orcs, lots of them, coming in droves to attack us. I thought we'd be outnumbered. If it weren't for the fire, we wouldn't have been here now. It would have been to difficult to overcome them.

If Gandalf instructed us to come here, she must be someone we can trust. He would not send us anywhere he was not sure would be safe, to stay.There is no one I would trust more than Gandalf. However, if the old wizard has gone senile (which I sometimes suspect he has) he may have just been saying things. I need to make absolutely sure she is trustworthy. I know nothing about her, but as I glance around the small sitting room I can see axes hung up in a corner, and stacks of wood. In another there are blades of different shapes and sizes. She's a hunter, by the looks of it. The smell of wood and rust is familiar to me, no matter how much I reject it.

I feel as if I have a lot to learn about this woman.

She comes back, carrying a bowl of stew.

I open my mouth to ask her what it is, but she beats me to it.

"It's deer. I caught it this morning."

I nod, taking a bite. It's delicious but I don't say anything. Anything. I need Balin, I need Dwalin….people I know and trust. I've never been very good with people I don't know. Somehow, it never comes naturally.

She narrows her eyes at me. "It's not poisoned. Somehow, I think if I poisoned the future King Under the Mountain, it would not go down to well with your friends, or anyone for that matter." She says sardonically.

So she knows of me...how much does she know of me?

There is silence for a while.

"How do I know to trust you?" I say finally. I have to get it off my chest. Beating around the bush is never something I've done.

"If you trust Gandalf, then you trust me. He and I are old friends. He helped me after…" her voice trails off wistfully. Her eyes look wistful, full of memory and emotions I can't read. Then they harden, as does her voice. "After I found myself in an unfortunate place.

"I doubt you'll find any other help near here, so I would be grateful if I were you." She snaps suddenly.

"I'll only be grateful when I know if I can really trust you." I retort.

She stands up abruptly. "It doesn't matter if you don't trust me. Sooner or later, you'll be out of here."

Then she walks out, carrying my empty bowl with her, leaving me even more perplexed than before.

UPDATE: thank you for your lovely comments, to the guests that reviewed. It means a lot to me. Unfortunately I can't reply to guest reviews :(

Chapter Three will be up tomorrow. There are quite a lot of chapters so I'm hoping to update regularly, this may mean every day or every other day.

Thanks for reading! x


	3. Chapter Three

A frustrated puff of air leaves my mouth as I step outside the cabin and into the light. He's so stubborn. Of course. I mean, he's a dwarf. Dwarves are stubborn. But part of me was hoping he'd at least be grateful for me helping him and his company. Part of me was hoping he'd thank me for saving his life.

I wander towards the edge of the forest to where the stream is, and the dwarves are laughing and messing about, pushing each other in. It's a completely different atmosphere here than what I just experienced with Thorin. They're all so happy and carefree, yet with him, it seems like he's weighted, that he carries everything on his broad shoulders, like the fate of the entire company. I know they are on some sort of quest, and it means a lot to them, but only their leader, Thorin, seems to know that they're in some deeper peril than they realise, I can see it in his face.

A few of them see me coming and stop what they're doing, as I open my mouth to speak.

"He's awake." I say, loud enough to be heard over all of the boisterous, clamoring dwarves, who seem to be all united against one big dwarf who they are trying to push in.

I glance warily at Balin, who seems to be the spokesperson for the group in the absence of Thorin. He approaches me and with him another burly, warrior - type dwarf follows.

"We will see him now." Balin confirms.

I lead them inside the cabin to the sitting room, and leave quietly so they can talk. Obviously they have some sort of secret affairs to discuss, their hushed voices are proof of that.

It is now that it all settles - I've got twelve unknown dwarves, one of whom is a future King, and a hobbit in my cabin. Just a few days ago this is the last thing I would've imagined happening. But now it is. Thorin Oakenshield is staying at my house, and I don't imagine he'll be leaving anytime soon, not with a wound like that.

Soon, you'll have some peace, I soothe myself. But it is hard to believe.

Soon, the rest of the party traipse in with their catch, and I begin to prepare dinner without a word. It is weird having strangers in the cabin who I have to cook for, but I used to cook for Ma and Pa all the time, and my little brother. We would all talk whilst we chopped and cooked over an open fire outside, then enjoy it together under the light of stars. I hastily suppress the memory, because it is nothing more than that. Just a memory.

"Excuse me, but do you have any medicine? Master Thorin is feeling ill."

I turn from my position at the table and see a dwarf who I think is a small, ginger dwarf standing there. I raise an eyebrow.

"I'll fetch some water."

"Begging your pardon, but I think he'll need more than water, lass." Bofur calls from behind him. I can hear agonised grunts of pain coming from the sitting room.

I enter and see the dwarves crowded around Thorin, hustling and pushing like mother hens.

I make my way through and to this side, and what I see shocks me. The bandages on Thorin's shoulder are once again soaked with blood. How did this happen? I dressed the wound…he's been lying down all day, he can't have ripped it...it's like instead of healing, he's just getting worse...

"Help me bring him into the kitchen." I command, and together we lift him up and to the table in the kitchen. Carefully I unravel the bandages. Under all the blood, I see something that shocks me. Something black, wedged deeply into the wound. In our haste last night we must not have noticed it. It almost makes me faint to see it.

"morn ceber" I murmur. Black spike. It is known that among each orc tribe, they carry a single black dart which they attach to the end of a spear. It is for the leader of the group, usually, or the one they want to kill the most. When it pierces the victims skin it is meant to release magic poison which spreads throughout the body and kills them slowly. A sort of dark torture. It is not a hateful, violent crime on the Orc's part...well, it is, but it is filled with malice, too, and a thirst for revenge, and I can only imagine what Thorin did to provoke them to make them use their coveted black spike.

I've only seen it once before, and the victim was dead by nightfall. I'm surprised that Thorin is not yet dead too. It may have been a weaker kind of poison. But it is poison nonetheless.

"What did you say?" Bofur says quietly.

"It's an orc black spike." I murmur softly. I press my hand to Thorin's forehead. It is icy cold.

I want to kick myself. How could I have not seen it before?

I take a small knife and remove the morn ceber, and it is longer than I thought. It leaves an inky black mark where it once was.

Kili makes a move to take it from me, but I stop him.

"No." I warn forcefully. "No one can touch this." I take a small phial and put it inside, sealing it tightly.

Balin looks grave. "Is it really a black spike?"

I nod. I don't know what to do. I just hope the poison has not spread to Thorin's head. If it has, we are in big trouble.

I take his large, calloused hand in mine and squeeze it gently. It is slightly clammy. He opens his eyes and grunts in pain.

"Can you hear me?" He nods.

Thorin nods.

A feeling of relief washes over me, but I don't let myself feel it yet. I don't know how to explain to him that something terrible is going to happen to him, that he will feel great pain, and possibly even die from it when I have not been pierced with a black spike myself. I suppose hunting alone has its merits.

Suddenly, I notice now it is only him and I in the kitchen. The other dwarves have gone to give him privacy.

It is strangely silent, and the wind can be heard on the creaking roof of the cabin, and the beginnings of pattering of rain. There'll be a storm, later.

I swallow, knowing that I have to tell him.

"You were pierced with a black spike."

His face remains impassive, but there is a flicker of fear in his eyes. "A black spike?"

"How did you not see it before?" He says frustratedly.

I close my eyes for a second and try to keep my calm, for his sake. Arguing with him would be pointless, no matter how I want to snap back at him, I shouldn't.

"How?" He demands.

"I...don't know. It was concealed, somehow." I sigh. "Not many people have been pricked by a black spike and lived to tell the tale. And those who have would rather not tell it. I don't know what will happen to you. Forms of pain and physical torture, or perhaps it will target your brain and force you to become a creature of the other side."

"I can withstand pain." He says hoarsely, rubbing his shoulder. I try hard not to roll my eyes.

"I'm sure, but this is a weapon of the other side. We don't know much about their weapons. Just...try and be strong, and remember who you are."

Then, Thorin looks into my eyes, and I feel vulnerable all of a sudden. It scares me, but it excites me all the same. I swallow, again.

"What's happening to me?" He asks. His voice is much softer, and deeper.

Without thinking I grasp his hand.

"Just remember. Please. Promise me."

There is a burning look in his eyes as he drifts to unconsciousness.

There won't just be a storm outside, tonight.

 ***** **Thank you to everyone who has favourited and followed this story, and stay tuned for more chapters.** _Kelwtim2spar:_ **Thanks! I love Thorin/OC stories too. I always felt that Thorin needed someone and it's great to play around with what that could have been like for him.** ** _(I don't own the Hobbit or any of its characters.)_**


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four: Thorin

The last thing I see before I pass out is the woman, Gwendolyn. She stands there, grasping my hand, a crease formed between her eyebrows, a scared look in her eyes. She asks me to promise and I try to move my head in a nod, but my neck won't comply.

My shoulder still throbs, the bandages have been taken off and my wound has been cleaned. The pain is more like a dull ache, now. A memory.

But now there is a new pain, a fresh pain, everywhere in my body. A burning agony. It feels like it's tearing my skin apart piece by piece, and ripping through my flesh. All I can see is darkness, but I feel everything.

Suddenly there is blinding white, everywhere. It stings my face, the brightness seeping into my skin and burning it from underneath.

"Thorin."

A deep, very deep voice rumbles, as if from all around, but there is no one there.

There is just white light. White as the first snow of winter.

"The King under the Mountain…." The voice says again, velvety smooth, forming a thick film over my senses, lulling me to a feeling of comfort, and safety.

I revel in that feeling...it's like a warm blanket, wrapping me up, surrounding me...

"All your life you have been cheated. All your life, there has been no one to help you rectify the mistakes of your forefathers, so you have had to struggle alone…"

 _Struggle alone..._

Suddenly I remember myself, as a younger dwarf. Although I had everyone around me, I felt like there was no one to turn to. And always, always there was a feeling of a weight being held above my head, constantly, until one day that weight crashed onto my shoulders prematurely, and I had to take on all the responsibilities I wasn't ready for.

"...but no more. No more shall you struggle, Thorin Oakenshield. For a new world is on the horizon.

All old worlds and kingdoms will fall to dust when the new day dawns, where all answer to a supreme power, and live harmoniously."

I imagine what that would be like….I picture it. It seems so close, but yet so far.

Gradually, out of the white light, a hand begins to grow, gentle - palmed, wrists clothed in white. It reaches out to me...willingly, I reach out to it -

"Thorin…" the voice rumbles again, a fraction urgently. I stretch my hand out further, but the hand lies just out of reach.

"Thorin…" it echoes, but slightly differently. Clearer, softly spoken...almost like liquid silver…

The light is gone, replaced by the vision of the darkening sky through the window, and the rolling hills carpeted by trees.

The low whispers and voices from nearby, that seem familiar, voices whose gravelly texture I can recognise...

The smell of slowly cooking fish, and herbs, mixed with wood and earth…and apples, the sweet scent of apple pie…

With an undertone of blood.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five: Gwen

I curse, shaking my hand, as the crimson blood begins to leak out from the knife cut. The onions are making my eyes water from cutting them, and I'm pretty sure the apple pie is burning.

Quickly I rummage in my medicine cabinet for a bandage and wind it around my finger, clutching it as it throbs.

Suddenly I hear stirring coming from the table where the dwarf king is lying. I approach the table and check his shoulder, which isn't bleeding anymore but still looks bad.

As I begin to re - dress it, his eyes flicker open.

"I can smell...blood.." he mutters. "What have you been...doing?"

"Nothing for you to worry yourself over." I snap, but I make my voice a bit gentler than its usual wont. "How are you feeling?"

He grunts in response, and I, having no idea what that is supposed to mean, leave this side and get the knife to wash the blood off so I can carry on making supper.

As I leave the kitchen, the Hobbit, probably the most unexpected of Thorin's gang, comes up to me with worried eyes.

"How is he? How is Master Thorin?"

I sigh, continuing outside, him following me.

"Your master," I reply, sarcastically, "is stronger than you all give him credit for. It is true, he will be tested in the upcoming hours, and it is true that I think we haven't seen the end of this quite yet. But have a little faith in him."

The Hobbit still stands at my side as I wash the knife in the stream. "What do you mean, he will be tested?"

I frown, debating on what is the nicest way to put it, for the Hobbit seems like one of the gentler folk.

"The effects of the morn ceber vary from person to person, from what I've heard. Some experience physical torture, whilst with others, the greatest pain lies in the mind."

The Hobbit seems unperturbed in his questioning. "In what way?"

"Visions, dreams, designed to show the person the most horrible of things, probably. But we will have no way of knowing if it is in his mind."

"They can do that?" The Hobbit murmurs, almost to himself.

I shrug. "As I said, we don't know what they're capable of. I think it would be wrong to underestimate them."

"Them?" He frowns with uncertainty.

I chuckle. "My, you sound scared. I don't just mean the Orcs, although they seem to have taken a special liking to you lot. I mean the Necromancer, in the north...the goblins...all of them. The goblins and Orcs don't have a good share of brains, granted, but they are strong in numbers. Who knows, perhaps the Necromancer is using them as some sort of….army."

I drift off, staring into the distance. Sometimes, the thought does come to me, because what if there was an army? I don't think they are incapable of it, the buggers. Still, though, I don't want to scare the Hobbit.

"Anyway, why don't you go and tell the dwarves to put Thorin on the bed, so I can lay the table?" I suggest, drying the knife on my tunic.

"Where?" He asks.

I swallow. "I - he can have my bed."

"Are you sure? He snores awfully. They all do."

I redden at the thought of sharing a bed with him, and the implications of such a thing. "No, that's alright, I'll sleep in the kitchen if needs be."

The Hobbit nods, but before he turns to go, I stop him.

"What is your name?" I ask, as I have never seen such a being, with gentle manners, but with a curiosity to challenge mine.

"Bilbo." He smiles warmly. "It's nice to meet you."

Sorry I haven't uploaded in a few days, but here is Chapter Five for you. You get bit of Bilbo and Gwen in this chapter, and a little bit of conversation between them, and some humour, hopefully you enjoyed it!

Thanks for reading :)

 _(I don't own the Hobbit, or any of its characters.)_


	6. Chapter Six

I see a woman walking toward me, slowly and calmly.

"Thorin." She whispers, her eyes piercing mine. I feel odd. She looks beautiful, her hair framing her face. She is wearing a gown of spun gold.

I cannot tear my eyes away from her when she looks at me like that.

"Thorin," she repeats. "I'm yours." The last word is a whisper as she leans down and caresses my face.

"Just kiss me." She urges. "Kiss me and I'll make sure everything is put right. Your father won't hate you. You'll have gold, maidens, whatever you want. We can rebuild Erebor together. Make it what it once was. You can honour your ancestors...walk the halls knowing that you did them proud. Kiss me and reclaim the life you once had. Kiss me and I'll solve all your problems."

I picture myself strolling through the halls with mounds of gold and lavish feasts galore. My reputation restored. My father brought back to me. The image is a good one. I want that life so badly and all I have to do is kiss this beautiful woman to take it back. It's so simple. So easy.

Easy?

That word doesn't sound right. Reclaiming Erebor was never going to be easy. Gandalf stressed that to me multiple times.

The woman leans down towards me, her rounded, soft lips inches from mine, her sultry eyes locked on my face.

Suddenly I push her away. She is not right...this is not right…

She stumbles away and darkness shrouds my vision once again. Then I wake up, gasping for breath in a cold sweat.

Immediately, I feel panic begin to set in. I don't recognise this place.

The walls are wood, but draped with cloth to add some sort of decoration, and I lie on a simple bed, swathed in blankets, which are now soaked in my sweat.

Suddenly, someone knocks on the door.

Slowly, so as not to make any noise, I reach for a weapon. The nearest thing I find is a candelabra.

Better than nothing, I suppose.

The door creaks open, and the second an unfamiliar dark headed person comes into sight, all the pent up frustration and worries and fright all comes leaping out, and without warning I launch the candelabra at the person -

They dodge the offending object, and raise a bandaged finger to scrape the hair back from their face, frowning.

Gwen.

My shoulders drop down, and I exhale in relief, collapsing back onto the bed.

She picks up the candelabra, and examines it for any damage.

"I'm sorry -" I begin, feeling terrible.

She shakes her head slightly, putting it down on the side table.

"It's alright. It's just a candelabra."

But for a split second, her eyes are lingering on the object that seems so out of place in a simple cabin, and she seems slightly wistful.

Then, just like that, the expression is gone.

"How do you feel?" She says, handing me a mug of water, her eyes lingering on the spot where my chest is slightly revealed. I clear my throat uncomfortably, hoisting the blankets up to cover me, suddenly aware of how intimate the room is.

"I will heal, thank you." I reply, sipping the water, feeling it, cold on my chest. For a moment there is silence, where neither of us know what to say. I'm reminded of how little I know about her, the woman who Gandalf knows and has graciously taken us in.

She wears a blue dress today, pale blue with white sleeves and an apron over the skirt, her face slightly flushed from some sort of exertion, a few stray pieces of hair lingering in her eyes, which she brushes out agitatedly.

I wonder what it would be like to touch it. Her hair.

...Stop thinking that.

Suddenly, her eyes catch mine, and I realise I've been staring at her for ages, and quickly look away, fixing my gaze on the bedclothes instead, but my eyes strat back to her face for a split second, and she seems slightly more flustered than before.

"You should eat something, and get your strength back. Your shoulder still has not fully healed."

"I'm fine, thank you." I reply, not feeling the slightest bit hungry.

She sighs irritatedly. "That's not a request, that's an instruction."

"I was under the impression that I am a guest here." I smirk.

"Is that so?" She laughs sarcastically. "As far as I was concerned, you were a wayward traveller without a home."

I clench my jaw, beginning to feel slight ire at her words. "Lucky for you, you won't be concerned much longer. In a few days we will be gone, and you can go back to your solitary existence."

" _My_ solitary existence?" She says incredulously. "Says the one who stares vacantly into the distance and grunts for a reply, rather than making actual conversation? I would have thought that you, of all people, would know how hard it is to provide for yourself and toil just to put food on the table." Gwendolyn glares at me, and I can see the challenging, angry look in her eyes. "Yes, you would. In fact, you had to do it for several people other than yourself. People who -"

"Don't speak to me about my past."

I hear the coldness, the unforgivingness in my voice. The feeling begins to rage like a caged animal inside, even more now.

There's silence, a pause where the anger and tension is palpable, so much that I am sure it will explode. Building, building...she closes her fist, on the verge of fury -

Then without a word, she is gone.

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Sorry it took so long to upload this chapter. Unfortunately, the wifi is dodgy and half of it deleted before I could save it, so I had to rewrite it. But I'm happy with it. I wanted to get across that Thorin and Gwen are both headstrong, passionate people, and they can annoy each other to the breaking point, even over something silly. Neither of them want to back down, but in this chapter Gwen oversteps the mark and realises her mistake.**

 **Hopefully updates will speed up from now on, and some longer chapters, too. :)**


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: Gwen

The door closes behind me, and I escape outside to the cool of the air, soothing my burning emotions.

I don't know what I just did.

One minute I'm walking in to check on him and the next we're having a full blown argument and I'm almost entirely sure I made a fool of myself. It all happened so quickly. The anger and frustration built into a plateau of feelings, and then I went over the edge.

But in that moment...the moment before I left, I felt the most emotion I have in a long time. And for some reason, it felt like release.

Almost.

I avoid him like the plague for the next few days.

Well, as much as I can, given that I'm meant to be nursing him back to health.

The visions are getting worse, but it's hard to tell just how bad it is when we don't speak to each other. There's just this unbelievably painful and awkward silence every time we are alone together, and the room feels like it's on fire, and there are so many unsaid words on the tip of both our tongues.

Sometimes I wish I could just tell him what I think of him. That he's a self - righteous, proud, ignorant -

 _Come on, you can do better than that._

Alright then, he's a bas-

"Miss Gwendolyn?"

My head snaps up from its resting place on the solid wood of the table, and my sleep - deprived eyes meet those of the white haired dwarf, Balin.

I rub them hastily and plaster a smile on my face, trying to pretend that I wasn't just thinking near - murderous thoughts of Thorin.

"I beg your pardon, but have you checked on Thorin yet?" He raises his eyebrows.

"No, I haven't, is he worse?" I ask, some concern slipping into my voice.

Balin's beady eyes search me over suspiciously. "I don't believe so, but he has had a tough time of late."

I force myself out of the chair, and we go into my bedroom. Thorin is sleeping fitfully, and I can see there is a fever brewing.

He lies there, brow creased, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead, fingers clutching the bedsheets like they are a lifeline, flinching and twisting this way and that sporadically.

I wouldn't like to be inside his head right now.

"Is there anything you could do to ease the fever?" Balin questions, looking at me.

I turn, and rummage around in the drawers for some kind of herbal supplement or some secret note that will tell me what I should do.

I frown. "I don't think so. I think we should just wait for it to pass. I mean, you can interfere all you want but the fever will have to go on its own."

Balin nods slowly. "And will it?"

"Yes." I confirm, but it's not really the fever that we should end worrying about. I've had my suspicions about the visions Thorin's been having. They have been infrequent, but they've been going on too long. When my friend was pierced by the morn ceber, it was one or two nights of fever, followed by visions, and then…

He's been cooped up in the same place for way too long. Who knows what's been going on inside his head. I should ask him, really, but since we haven't been talking, that would be a bit difficult. I couldn't move him anywhere, either. The nearest town isn't for leagues. I could go there tomorrow, and see if they have anything, but I haven't been there for ages, worried that the spies would find me. It wouldn't be safe.

No, the safest option is just to keep him here, out of harm's way, until he gets better. However long it takes.

He wakes the next morning, upright and sweating. I press a tentative had onto his good shoulder to ease him back down onto the bed, waiting until his breathing slows to a healthy rhythm again.

I swallow anxiously. "Do you...recall anything? About the dream?"

It's the first sentence I've said to him in days, but he doesn't seem to notice, too dazed and confused.

Thorin's brow wavers a bit. "I…"

"Try and think." I encourage him, making a bold move and sitting on the bed, but as far away from his legs as possible.

After a few moments he speaks, staring off into the distance. "It was white light...the cold sort, like that of stars, or ice. Everywhere. And then, there was this...this eye...it appeared right in front of my face, so close that I could almost see every detail. In the black, darkness of the centre point, there was fire, destroying, consuming….and then, a blue sky, a black palace made of ash. I...saw myself. Standing at the parapet. I wore black and blue robes. Blue, the colour of the house of Durin, and pitch black. I was blindfolded, bound and gagged, and I struggled against my bonds and tried to escape, but there were hands made of smoke that held me in place. They wouldn't let me go free. But then I saw myself surrender to the hands and stopped struggling and let them steer me. They steered me to the top of the palace, where I wore a crown...I wore a crown for eternity. But the hands were there on my shoulders, I saw them - I saw them gripping me, the whole time -"

Thorin looks panicked like a wild animal, caged, almost. I've never seen him like this...like he's lost control.

"Thorin…" I say quietly in an attempt to soothe.

"This can't keep happening. I can't keep having these dreams…I don't -"

I stop. "The place you were in, what did it look like? I mean, the version of you that you saw in the eye."

Thorin frowns. "I was in a palace, I told you. It was made of ash -"

I shake my head. "No, the environment. What was it like?"

"It was...wooded. Countryside. I remember, because the palace seemed out of place, ethereal...the ash was tumbling onto the grassy banks and flowing into the brook that lead into the forest…the forest was big, and imposing, kind of like you would never know just where it began and where it ended..."

The rest of his voice is just a blur, endless mumbling, because it feels as if I'm underwater, and everything I hear muffled.

The place he described, it sounded like….here.

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Just so you know, in this story chapter length will vary. They've all been kind of short up until now, and they will get longer, but sometimes a few will just be dreams/visions, stuff like that. I hope you've been enjoying them and I can't wait to see what you think of the upcoming ones. Feedback is always welcome :)**


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: Thorin

"What is it?" My voice trembles slightly, more than I would wish it to, when I see her face.

It is like a shadow has passed over it, showing her the dangerous, harrowing, unfortunate way of the world, and with every second that ticks by I begin to grow worried.

Slowly, her eyes reach mine, and there is fear in them.

"I -"

Suddenly the door bursts open and we both sit up, alert, but it is only the burglar, Bilbo. He looks terrified.

"Thorin," he says, barely above a whisper.

"What is it?" I ask through clenched teeth. Whatever Gwen was about to tell me is lost now, the moment is gone.

Bilbo's fingers are gripping the door so hard his knuckles are turning white. "I think there's someone out there."

"What!?" I explode, unsure of the feelings swirling around inside me.

But Gwen ignores me and turns to Bilbo. "Are you certain?"

There is worry in her voice, too.

Bilbo nods. "The other dwarves have heard it too. There's someone out there." He repeats.

Abruptly, she gets up, and crosses to the other side of the room. Pulling back the wall hanging, she retrieves a steel saber, long and balanced perfectly from a pocket on the wall. Then, the hanging falls back into place as if nothing was behind it at all.

She exits the room, saber in hand, and Bilbo follows nervously behind. In a second, I am throwing back the bedsheets and standing.

The floor seems to sway beneath my feet, and everything goes blurry for a second, but I right myself and go to the door before it can take me over again.

I find the dwarves gathered in her sitting room, and her and Bilbo in the kitchen.

She draws back the piece of clothing covering the window tentatively, until I wrench her back.

"What are you -" I hiss,but suddenly she presses a finger to her lips, and I fall quiet.

Outside, footsteps can be heard. Slow, deliberate ones.

Stealthily, Gwen draws her blade, her finger still on her lips, and creeps towards the door. I try to get in front of her, my own sword also drawn, but she shakes her head, gently pushing me back.

"I'm meant to be protecting you." She whispers. Then she turns,and all of a sudden she wrenches open the door, only to see a man in grey robes with a grey beard and brown hat standing there.

"Gandalf!" She says, plastering a smile on her face, and does the thing I didn't expect her to do - she hugs him tightly. He pats her back, smiling.

"Gwen." He chuckles, then she releases him.

"You gave us a fright. I thought you were -" then, she stops, leaving the end of the sentence drifting around somewhere.

The old wizard frowns, minutely, but then his expression changes.

Gandalf spots me. "Thorin! I did not see you there." He inspects me closely. "I see you are wounded."

"Yes, I was. We ran into Orcs who tried to destroy our camp, and I was injured. But I am recovering now."

"Good, good." Gandalf says, but doesn't sound convinced. "Now you mind if I come in?"

"Not at all." She says, and closes the door behind him. "Forgive me, but I was not expecting you would come, not for many days, if at all."

"Indeed, nor I." I say.

"'Tis no matter." Gandalf shrugs, studiously avoiding the topic. _All in good time,_ his eyes tell me.

"Would you like some tea?" Gwen asks politely.

He pauses for a moment. "No, thank you, I would rather a spot of nice strong brandy. I have been out too long in the cold."

"I haven't got any brandy, but will ale suffice?" She asks.

"Yes, I suppose it will have to do." Gandalf chuckles warmly, going into the sitting room. All the dwarves cheer at the sight of him.

"Gandalf!"

"Finally, he's here!"

"Took you long enough." Someone (probably Dwalin) mutters.

Gandalf laughs. "Now, now, Master Dwalin. And where is our burglar?"

"Gandalf! You are here!" Smiles Bilbo, barely able to hide his joy at sent the wizard.

Leaving them to catch up, I go back into the kitchen where Gwen is pouring ale for Gandalf.

"Did you know he was coming?" I ask in disbelief.

"Indeed, no. I had hoped, but there have been more and more Orc sightings on the borders, as of late. I thought he might get caught uo in it. If we don't slay them all now, they will come and interrupt the peace we have here."

"So that is all you care about? Your peace? And what about the rest of folk who face the Orc's wrath. What of them?"

She sighs, setting the ale down, and I begin to notice how tired she looks all of a sudden. She looks like she hasn't slept in ages, her eyes rimmed in red.

"And what about earlier? You foolishly threw yourself in the way of danger, when you shouldn't have." I berate.

"There was no danger." She replies.

"There could have been." I snap back.

Gwen sighs again.

"I must always defend you, whenever there is danger. And your dwarves, and burglar."

 _I'm meant to be protecting you_ , she had said. There had been no harm that time, but she had been there anyway.

"But why?" I frown curiously.

"You're the king under the mountain." She says simply. "I don't fall under your dominion, but you are still a rightful king. I think if you died it would be a lot worse than if I did."

At her words, something in me is wistful. She says it is her duty to protect me, but not because she cares or wants to.

 _Stop it. Why do you care anyway?_

"It could matter…" The words leave my mouth of their own accord, as if some higher power has taken control of me, and my heart is pounding in my chest.

Gwen sets the mug down. "What?"

"It could matter, if you died." I don't know how much sense I'm making, and I don't know if I mean the words I say, but then she is approaching me, and there is a buzzing electricity in my limbs, and an urge deep within me.

She stares at me, and our eyes are locked together. I never noticed the colour of her eyes before….they are green, like the forest…

The sound of someone's loud footsteps make me jump, and we spring further away from each other. Gwen looks away from me, her face turning red.

Dwalin stands there. "You coming, Thorin?"

I clear my throat hastily, and nod, following him out of the room.

A while later, when the dwarves have gone to sleep, and I have returned to bed, I hear hushed voices coming from the kitchen. At first, nothing seems out of the ordinary to me, but then they begin to sound more furtive and tense, and, for the second time that evening, I haul myself out of bed and go to the kitchen, trying not to make any noise.

As I get closer, I begin to hear some of what is being said.

"...dangerous, we don't know for certain…" says a male voice. Gandalf.

"but what he described….." Gwen speaks, but I don't catch the middle of the sentence, "...here. He cannot remain here for much longer."

"..do not know that."

"I'm concerned for his safety!"

"As am I, but we must wait a while longer before we make any move…going quickly is only going to.." Gandalf's voice dips, and I can't hear anything now unless I press my ear up against the door.

"...Gandalf, please help…."

"I will do my best to protect him and the dwarves. But what…you?"

"I have taken care of myself for….years. It will not matter if I get harmed."

But even in her voice, I detect a flicker of doubt.

Then Gandalf drops his mug, and it makes a loud crash, which I jump at. Some of the dwarves stir in their sleep, and Bilbo peers up at me sleepily from under his blanket.

"Is everything alright?"

I nod, but it feels like I'm trying to convince myself. "Get back to sleep, master burglar."

But the thought that crosses my mind before I finally drift off to sleep is that something is very, very wrong.

 ***** **Thanks for reading!** **Also, thank you to the guests who have reviewed chapters 12. It means a lot to me!** **One of the lovely guests commented on Thorin's distrustful nature: I couldn't agree more! His past is bound to affect his attitude towards people he doesn't know (especially someone who is meant to be healing him) and also, I think all dwarves are distrustful by nature. I don't think it's all bad, though, because it saves him a lot of trouble at times.** **Hope you have enjoyed chapter eight, chapter nine should be up in a day or so.**


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine: Gwen

There was a time when I was extremely happy.

I remember it so well, as if it was yesterday, that I felt the emotion of happiness so clearly as if it was a spring day, and the birds were chirping and there was musicality to everything.

Life was like a summer evening.

Those days have long been gone, of course, but it doesn't mean that I don't miss them with every inch of my heart. Everyone has a time like that, that they wish they could go back to, and live again, in harmony and bliss but they know that they can't. That it can never happen. It's one of the best and worst feelings you can feel.

And there are days when that's all I think about. How everything could have been perfect, and yet...it wasn't.

I wake up, later than usual, finding Thorin fast asleep, Gandalf smoking his pipe outside, and the dwarves departed to fish in the brook.

I don't bother disturbing Gandalf, for I know that he is thinking, and you should never disturb a wizard when he is thinking. I have made that mistake before, and regretted it.

He has been dreaming all night, Thorin. I know it. When I walk into the bedroom the air is thick with fraught tension and heat. I can already guess that his dream has been a particularly bad one.

Rain begins to gently patter on the roof of the cabin. I glance outside, seeing it fall in thicker and thicker sheets.

The dwarves won't get much out of fishing, then.

I decide to sit down in the chair in the bedroom, to make sure he is alright, and to watch over him, but also to have some thinking time of my own.

It seems like forever since I have been alone with my own thoughts, and now that I am, something seems off. It's like I have come home to find my mind a slightly different place from before, like something has changed in it.

What is wrong with me?

I would never have thought this deep, this intensely, before. Before, when my mind was always filled with worries, and thoughts of how I was to get food on the table.

A long time ago, my thoughts were filled with my family. And from time to time, they still are, but what's saddest is that every time I think of them, their faces are just slightly more blurred, their voices unfamiliar.

I am a long, long way away from them.

All of a sudden, Thorin wakes, gasping a huge breath and gripping the sheets, wide - eyed.

I spring out of the chair quickly and to his side, getting a wet clothes and pressing it to his already damp, sticky forehead, looking at him through blurry eyes.

I didn't realise I was crying.

Blinking the tears away, I ask him how he feels.

"I - I had another dream." He breathes, calming down a little more now, resting back against the wall, his long, dark hair tangled around his shoulders. Something in me wants to run my fingers through it, and feel the softness…

I swallow thickly, now very conscious of the fact that my face is tingling.

"What was it about?"

"It was the same as before," he says, scrubbing his hand over his face tiredly. "But...different.."

"How do you mean?" I ask, my curiosity awoken.

"It felt more familiar, the place. The colours were more vivid than last time, almost crystal clear."

I settle down onto the bed, frowning. "The...colours?"

He nods. "The ash was darker, and the wood of the trees was richer, and the trees were…" he stops suddenly, glancing at me, directly in my eyes. "...forest green."

I blink in confusion, and then his eyes are gone, fixed on the wall hanging opposite him.

Well, that was strange.

"It felt so familiar. It felt like -"

"Here?"

My mouth utters the words before I can stop it. I know I shouldn't tell him, because it could affect whatever is going on, but I know he will find out I've been hiding it one way or another from him, and his wrath is not something I want to face, not today.

Thorin completely turns to look at me then, his face a mess of amazement and frustration.

"Is that...what you were talking about last night?" He says, his voice dangerously low.

I feign nonchalance. "Last night?"

"Last night, you and Gandalf were talking in the kitchen, I heard you. Don't pretend you weren't. I heard you." He glares.

The rain is drumming more noisily now, but it doesn't soothe me. He's right. We were talking last night, Gandalf and I, and I wonder just how much of the conversation Thorin actually heard. "If there is something that I must know about the safety of my Company, then do not keep it from me."

I exhale heavily. "It's not...about them, as such."

"Then what, or who, is it about?" Thorin demands, sitting up straighter.

I can't tell him. It could...affect whatever is happening. It could put us all in danger.

But I look up, and meet his sapphire eyes, and I find I just can't deny him this. He deserves to know.

"When you first started getting the dreams, I presumed they were just visions and nothing more, that would go away when your shoulder was properly healed. But then, when you told me of the dream you had a few nights ago, the one you just had this morning, something seemed off. The place you described in the dream, sounded like the place you are in right now."

Thorin looks at me in blatant disbelief, and opens his mouth to say something probably derogatory.

I shake my head. "I know it sounds unlikely, but think about it. The dreams should have stopped long ago, as your shoulder is almost fully healed. But they haven't. And when you talked about the palace of ash, and the crown, and the smoking hands, it all seemed...different. Like the dreams were symbolizing something."

"Forgive me, but I don't understand how this -"

"And then I realized," I cut him off, "that your dreams aren't just...well, dreams. Someone is spying through them, and gathering information, Thorin. It makes sense.

The bonds that were wrapped around you, that you struggled against - they showed that you were resisting, trying to prevent whoever it is from getting into your head, but you were powerless. The colours of Durin gave your identity away. The hands of smoke represent a superior being who is trying to control you. You said you wore a crown for eternity - perhaps meaning eternal power - but you also said the hands were always gripping your shoulders. I don't know what, but I know it means something."

He doesn't speak. Instead he just stares at his lap, and I can almost hear the cogs whirring in his brain.

"How long have you known this?"

I swallow, looking down myself, finding myself unable to meet his penetrating gaze. "Since I spoke to Gandalf. I conferred with him about my suspicions, and he said there were some truth to them. We don't know for sure, but this puts you in danger, Thorin."

"And what of my Company?"

I shake my head sadly. "We don't know about them yet."

"No, where are they right now?"

I freeze in place, suddenly feeling stupid. They shouldn't have been allowed to leave the house if I'm right about Thorin's dreams. No one should.

Suddenly I am grabbing my blade and disappearing from the room. I hear Thorin call my name from the bedroom, but I don't come back.

The rain is in a downpour now, that drenches my clothes and leaves me soaked to the skin, but I break into a run to the brook. I have to make sure they're alright, that nothing has happened.

If something has, I'm not sure Thorin would ever forgive me.

 ***** **Thank you for reading!** **Sorry for the delay with this chapter. The dynamic between Thorin and Gwen is at an odd place right now, but I promise you it will be resolved eventually.** **Feedback is always welcome :)**


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten: Thorin

"Gwendolyn!"

I hear myself call her name as she races from the room, pulling her blade from her bed.

I need to follow her, and ensure the others are alright, but I can't. It feels like I'm tied to this bed, to this whole cabin.

I hate it.

I hate feeling so powerless and unable to do anything. Usually, I am in control. Usually, I'm strong enough to deal with whatever comes my way. But for some reason, lately, I haven't been able to.

I can't sleep. Sleep will come, I know it, I just...don't want to to, for the first time in ages. And it's not just because of the visions.

I should be feeling exhausted. My limbs like lead, my head like a stone.

But instead, every time I'm conscious, it's like I'm in this dreamlike state in my mind, and there is this buzzing electricity in my bones, a deep urge to do something...I don't know what it is.

Every time I'm around... _her._..I feel it, too. There's a pull, a very strong pull, that I have not felt in a long while.

I felt it first when I awoke in the kitchen of her cabin, when she spoke to me. Then I felt again.

And just now, in her bedroom.

Her _bedroom_. Where she sleeps.

I should be repulsed and ashamed, staying under the same roof as a human woman. It would be so much easier if I was, if that was still the way I felt.

The cabin is small, only three rooms. It infuriates me that I haven't seen outside of these four walls since my arrival. How do I know if the cabin is in a safe place? How can I protect the Company when I'm injured?

There always seem to be these weights crushing down on me. Constantly.

But when I had the dream...when I dreamt of standing in Durin's colours with a crown upon my head, I felt like the weights could be lifted.

That I could be free.

 ***** **Thanks for reading!** **This chapter is short, just an insight into Thorin's thoughts. As we know, he is a powerful character, used to having authority and control. But when he is put in a situation where he can't do anything? That's when it gets interesting.** **I hope you liked it, Chapter Eleven will be up soon.**


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven: Gwen

My feet make splashing sounds in the thickening mud as a run to the brook, fear making my heart pound in my chest erratically.

Soon I reach the line of trees that conceal the section of water from view. I listen out for voices, sounds of struggle, anything, but I can't hear over the howling wind and rain.

The sky is rapidly darkening as I hide behind one of the thick pine trunks, peering beyond it.

What I see shocks me.

The dwarves are all there, fishing and chatting, probably the calmest I've ever seen them.

Kili and Fili, the twins, reel in a line with a trout on the end, and inspect it closely. Bofur is up to his knees in the middle of it with his trousers rolled up, trailing his fingers around to see any fish nearby. Balin and Dwalin are laughing heartily at Oìn and Gloìn arguing about the size of their catch.

Suddenly there is a rumble of thunder in the distance, signalling a storm. Balin turns around, looking to the sky, and then his eyes fall to me, a shivering, soaked mess under the canopy of the trees.

"You alright, lass?" Bofur asks, straightening up. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

No words come out of my mouth. I can't speak for relief.

But I know that this doesn't mean they're - _we're_ \- completely in the clear.

Balin looks at me with concerned eyes, but I can see a hint of suspicion under the surface of his beady, black orbs.

It's not safe to tell him, not here, not now, there's no way.

He catches the thoughts in my eyes, and sends me a subtle nod.

After murmuring something to the dwarves, who carry on their activities with a few dubious glances our way, Balin takes me aside.

"Now, lass, are you going to tell me what in Durin's name is going on?"

I take a deep breath, before telling him everything in the quickest way possible, careful not to offend him, but that's always a chance I will have to take with dwarves.

"...that's why it's not safe. I know it might seem like I was overreacting, but I just…" I trail off, unsure of what to say next.

Balin says nothing for a while, and I struggle to understand what's going on in his head. I pray he will comprehend what I'm saying.

"Who do you suspect is behind these... visions, this whole matter? Aside from the Orcs." He says finally, one white brow lowering.

I shake my head. "I'm sorry, you'll have to talk to Gandalf about that. I wouldn't know. But whoever it is, I don't think they're going to give up until they have what they want."

Which is us wiped out, dealt with in some inhumane way.

And Thorin...facing a fate worse than death.

I manage to persuade the dwarves to wrap up their fishing, coaxing them in with the promise of a hot meal, and ale.

We dash inside, trying to dodge the rain, and failing miserably.

They don't seem to mind it, though, pushing each other into the mud and laughing like children.

I wish I could feel like that again.

I tell them to take off their boots and muddy coats outside, which makes them grumble as I go inside and sling my wet coat onto the table, glad to have the unpleasant weight off me.

Thorin stands in the doorway of my bedroom, in a fresh new blue tunic that is undone at the top, exposing his chest and throat. Blushing faintly, I draw my eyes away.

But then they flicker back as I realise that he's out of bed, which is a mistake, because I catch his gaze, and see his eyes roving over my soaked form, my blue shirt clinging to my skin, almost see through. My cheeks burn brighter as I wrap my arms around myself, but it's too late.

"Wha - what are you doing out of bed?" My teeth chatter as the cold sets in.

Thorin's eyes pierce into my neck, moving down ever so slightly, until they snap back up to meet mine.

"Are they alright? My company, are they harmed?" He asks, his voice rough, deeper than usual.

"I asked you first." I reply, unperturbed.

"I was waiting for you to come back." Thorin takes a slightly unsteady step forward, his burning stare lingering on the water droplets drying on my skin. "You're soaking."

The thunder rumbles again outside, this time seeming closer.

I don't meet his eyeline. "Your dwarves are fine. They have just come back with their catch."

"Then what was the problem?"

I sigh. "I was just...paranoid, that's all."

Thorin steps closer again. "Don't be afraid. Fear draws weakness...even out of the strongest people."

But it is not a reprimand. He speaks softly, and suddenly I feel as if I could listen to his voice forever, as I stare right back at him, fascinated by the blue in his eyes.

 _Mesmerizing_ …

I jump as Gandalf storms into the room, and the atmosphere gets considerably darker, and more storm - like. Anger is etched into his features, and I know it is directed at me.

Oh, dear.

He glares at me. "You and I need to talk."

 **A/N** **Thanks for reading!** **I really enjoyed writing this chapter, especially the exchange between Thorin and Gwen at the end. ;)** **Hopefully I will be able to get chapter twelve up soon, however I am in a place with not very good Wifi for a while, and I may not be able to upload, so there may be about a week or a fortnight's wait, but if that is the case then I will do a double upload (you'll get chapters twelve and thirteen at once) when I am able to.** **Also thanks so much for the favourites and follows, it means a lot that people enjoy this story.**


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve: Thorin

One minute, I hear the soft footsteps of Gwen entering the cabin, see her put her coat onto the table. The next, I'm staring blatantly at her...her hair is wet, plastered to her forehead, strands getting into her eyes, dripping onto her clothes. All thoughts of our conversation before, of asking about the dwarves (and Bilbo) have vanished into the blue and she is the only other person in the world...and the world is surrounded by her.

That is, until Gandalf walks in.

Gwen's visage changes from calm and inquisitive to uncomfortable and worried in a split second.

"Gandalf, what is it?" She asks, looking up at him, seemingly intimidated, all of a sudden. He casts a shadow around the room when he is angry, that looms over everyone.

He grumbles something incoherent to Gwen and she follows him into the kitchen, where the door is promptly closed, and their voices are muffled. Curiosity seizes me.

What are they talking about in such tones?

Unable to stop myself, I approach the door. After trying to listen and finding my attempt fruitless, I knock firmly.

Their voices fall silent as one of them goes to open the door.

Gwen's face appears. "Yes?" She says, tersely.

"I wish to know the nature of your conversation."

She sighs. "Look, I'll speak with you later about it. It's -" Gwen glances back quickly and lowers her voice. "It's important. Just wait until I come to the room later on."

I open my mouth to protest, but Gandalf's booming voice sounds from inside the kitchen.

"Gwendolyn!" He bellows, then mutters, "save me from the wayward way of humans."

She sends me a helpless look, and shuts the door, leaving me alone with my bewilderment.

"What was that all about, then?"

Dwalin's voice makes me turn and meet his suspicious gaze. I don't say anything. I recognise the look in his eyes. He has reason to be untrusting of humans, especially women, and I want as much as him to be rid of her.

 _But...do you?_

 _You admitted to yourself just this morning how you felt around her._

 _Yes, but it's not like that._

Even so, as I firmly ingrain this into my mind, I can't shift the image of her when I saw her earlier, after she had come in from the pouring rain. She's so different from the dwarves women, the likes of whom I have not seen in a long time, other than my sister. I've seen human women too, but none like her. There is something disparate about her...I can't put my finger on it.

"Thorin." Dwalin's voice is dangerously low. "You are not having thoughts of -"

"No." I cut him off quickly, just in case someone hears. Besides, it is not his business. He is my closest friend, but not that close, and he shouldn't presume anything. He knows better than to do that. I change my voice, to sound more commanding.

"What are the dwarves doing?"

Dwalin scoffs. "Thorin, they are restless. As am I. We await your instruction, you know that, but this is getting ridiculous. They are questioning -"

I clench my jaw. "Questioning? They should not be questioning anything."

All of a sudden, the ground seems to sway under my feet, and a mist swamp my mind. My shoulder begins to act up but it is no more than a distant ache compared to the thick film spreading, all around - I try to ground myself, but the dizziness is overwhelming -

I sway once more, and Dwalin quickly comes to support me.

I try and shake him off, not wanting to appear weak, but he doesn't budge. Stubborn as always, I think as my vision begins to become distorted.

"I'll get the girl." He grunts, weight shifting to help me stand.

"No." I croak in protest. "I'll be fine, give me a minute or so, and I'll be fine."

Dwalin looks at me darkly. "This is no minor ailment, any fool can see that. And a king cannot get ill."

I frown at him.

"Balin told me about the visions. And I'm convinced the others are beginning to cotton on. You can't hide this from us forever, sooner or later…" he trails off, thick eyebrows furrowing. "Sooner or later, there will be consequences, Thorin."

I look away, but I know he's right. If I am to be a king I can't be this weak, and I can't lie to my friends.

 _And you can't lie to yourself_ , a voice whispers. _You can never lie to yourself_.

The dizziness disappears as soon as I rest in bed, but the haze does not lift from my head even when it is propped on a pillow. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to shut out every bit of light that penetrates, even though the room is as dark as I can make it.

I worry.

I worry about the Company and the quest that looms over us all, the quest that will make me king, king of a mountain.

I worry about the visions and whoever is spying through them, and how much information they have gathered and when they are coming to kill us.

And I worry about the feelings, lain dormant inside of me for so long, suddenly awoken. They scare me, because I feel my control slipping, and my carefully constructed facade beginning so crack. And they excite me, because for so long, all I have felt is anger, so much anger and distrust and sadness that I want a release. I want - need - an oasis, to quench my thirst. I want to feel...I want to feel emotions that I never thought I would ever feel. And something inside me believes I can feel them if -

Knocking. Gentle knocking on the door.

"Come in." I say.

She slips inside, shutting the door quietly.

Somehow, I'm not relieved it's her. The sight of her makes my palms sweaty and I become more nervous. Luckily, she doesn't notice.

"Good. You're back in bed." Gwen says, barely meeting my eyes. She seems flustered, preoccupied.

"Your conversation with Gandalf?" I ask, cutting to the chase.

She swallows, and I don't miss the guilt on her face. Sometimes I can read it like a book. "He believes I should not have told you about my theory...of someone spying through your visions. He says it could disrupt things and possibly endanger you more."

The room falls silent. All I can think about is what Dwalin said before. Sooner or later, there will be consequences.

Instead of feeling anger, which I know I should, because Gandalf's warning is probably correct, I just feel conflicted.

"I'm sorry." She mutters. "I wasn't really thinking."

"It's...not your fault." I reply, rubbing a hand over my face. "I pushed you for answers about your conversation, the night previously, with Gandalf. I should not have done that. I daresay it's my fault, if anyone's."

Her head snaps up, and an alertness, an eagerness to prove me wrong has taken her over, so profound it could be frightening. "It's not your fault, Thorin. Don't blame yourself. There is no control you have over these visions."

I look up, suddenly. "What if I could? What if I could control them?"

She shakes her head. "It would be too hard."

I relax my head back onto the wall behind me. "I could do it." I murmur to myself. "Becoming a king requires a will of strength. Perhaps this is my test."

I feel her eyes on me, curious, but whatever she's thinking she decides not to say it. It falls quiet once more, thoughts racing through both of our minds.

"What should we do, now?" She asks, almost to herself. Her voice seems so small and scared, so out of character, when I've always seen her as strong. "I don't want to be responsible for your peril."

"Responsible?" I spit. "If you find it too much of a weight on your shoulders then perhaps you should throw us out. But you know nothing of pressure."

She looks at me incredulously. "And you still persist to guess things about me. I have never met someone so presumptuous."

I glare at her, but find myself devoid of an answer. If, in fact, she had dealt with pressure, when? Who from? How much I don't know about her counters what I do know. I decide to change the subject.

"How much danger does Gandalf believe us to be in?"

She releases a heavy breath. "That is the question. It does not matter so much about me, but you and your dwarves are another matter. He wishes…"

"What does he wish?" I encourage, spotting the hesitation.

"He wishes that you "leave this place," as he said, because now that the spy is familiar with the setting, not only does it make it easier for them to find you, but also become more in touch with your dreams and what he or she sees through them."

"What do you mean?"

"They will see the dream, and you, more vividly. They could attempt to corrupt you, now, if they so wished. Gandalf says if you move to an unfamiliar place, you have more of a chance of escaping the visions, and your shoulder healing in turn."

I shake my head. "But -"

"I know. I always thought that the healing process would begin with your shoulder, but it turns out that the visions have to stop, for your shoulder to get any better." She pauses. "Do you think you could move? Away from here, this cabin?"

"Yes." I say, without doubt. My shoulder pains me, but it is not as draining as the visions. And if it is really a test of will power...then, so be it.

Gwen nods. "I'll go and tell Gandalf. He'll talk to you about plans, then I suppose you'll...get going."

Staring at her, I realise there's something she's not saying. She begins clearing away empty mugs from my bedside.

"What are you going to do?" The words slip out before I can stop them.

Gwen looks at the drawn curtains, avoiding my question. "Do you still want these drawn?"

"You're still going to be in danger." I warn her. "If they come here and don't find us, they will want to know where we are."

"Then so be it." She hisses sharply. "Since when do you care?"

It's my turn to swallow. "I have a duty. I have to protect people."

Her eyes narrow. "So? I don't live within the borders of your kingdom."

"Whose rule do you fall under?" I ask - half expecting her to answer with "my own."

"Why does that interest you?" She says, getting defensive.

"It doesn't." I reply simply. "But it will to whoever is your king, when they have your dead body and a gang of Orcs or worse on their hands."

When no sound comes from her, I glance at her, and catch her wiping her eyes quickly with the back of her hand. Were my words too harsh? I wonder. But if she's not the sort of person to be hurt by that sort of thing, as I suspect, then what is it?

"I'm sorry." I apologise. "If I came across too harsh. But it's the truth. Sooner or later, there will be consequences." I echo Dwalin's words.

"I can take care of myself." Gwen mutters. "I've been doing it for long enough. If I can't stay here then I'll go somewhere else. Laketown, perhaps."

"Don't go there." I say abruptly.

"Why not? There are other Men there. I'll find work, a place to live."

"No." I shake my head. I don't see her fitting in Laketown, with all the common, working folk, and the grasping, greedy hands of the men there. She would not fare well.

She sighs. "Well, I'll go and tell Gandalf of your descision. He's not going to be too cheery when you speak with him, but he's even less happy with me. Count yourself lucky." A ghost of a wry smile happens upon her face, but it vanishes as soon as it appears.

Leaving me to wonder, as ever, about everything I don't know about her.

 **A/N** **What's that, you say? Gwen and Thorin...getting along? ;)** **I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. As promised, Chapter Thirteen will also be up today - sorry for the delay! Hopefully the chapters will come more steadily now that I have Wifi back. Again, please let me know your thoughts, good or bad, on this story. Feedback is always helpful and most welcome.** **Also, thanks to those who have favourited/followed this story, it means a lot. :)**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen: Gwen

The door closes softly with a snap, and I lean back against it, and sigh heavily.

It's so...intense, around him, right now. Like the room is closing in on us, the air making my lungs shrink, making me struggle to breathe. And I always have questions. So many questions - why did he say I must stay away from Laketown? Is he worried for me, genuinely, or is it just his duty?

And then there were those questions about what kingdom i live in. There's no possible way I can tell him...not yet. He will find out, though, soon - and I dread that day.

 _But...why? Why do you dread that day, when just days ago you wanted to get rid of him?_

I swallow, because deep down, I know the answer. I know my own mind and my heart. But being alone has made me hide from my thoughts and feelings, because they scare me. Strong feelings scare me, and from those feelings comes reckless actions, and they have consequences…is it the consequences I'm afraid of? Or is it that I'm losing control?

I've been alone for too long.

 **A/N** **Very short, I know, but I really wanted to get more of this story up for you today. Here, Gwen finally realises she's desperate for the company of other people.** **Chapter fourteen will be up in a few days - we'll see what happens to Thorin and Gwen because of the danger the visions place them in. Hopefully you've enjoyed this story so far - again, sorry updates have been slower recently! :)**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: Thorin

I wake up from another vision.

This time it was different.

This time - instead of just standing at the parapet, feeling the hands on my shoulders, as a king - I was something else, I was some _one_ else. I was seized by a crippling fear, and I lurched forward, my body tipping over the ledge, and I fell, I fell, down into a black abyss. I kept falling as I wrestled with the hands upon my shoulders, I tried to shake them off, but eventually it was all for nothing. The hands covered my mouth and nose, stopped me breathing, _consumed_ me - until all I was, all that was left of me was smoke, and even that faded into black.

But waking up, I am not breathless, or sweating, or feverish. An odd sense of calm is surrounding me, but I do not feel calm, deep down. In the pits of my mind and body I feel unrest, yet there is somehow tranquility forcing it's way, lulling me, until I feel...I feel numb, senseless…as if I am falling again, into the void...

" _Thorin_." A voice hisses, and hands shake my shoulders. I look up, and her face is there.

She looks worried, like she's anticipating something.

"What…" her voice trembles as she talks. "What...just happened?"

"I had a vision." I state, still dazed.

Gwen takes a deep breath, and it shakes on her exhale. "No, I mean - why did you just -"

"Just what?"

"You were so still, you could have been sleeping...but your eyes were open, your mouth was moving, but nothing was coming out - like you were saying something, but there was no noise -" Gwen's voice is higher, even more panicked. "I didn't know what to do, I -"

"Wait," I say, sitting up. "I was talking?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know - your lips were moving -"

I frown. "I wasn't talking - at least, I don't remember -"

"You don't remember?" Her eyes are scared, now, and wide. It's like I can see into her mind, and she's terrified, terrified for me, and the others.

She knows something. She knows something is up, something is wrong, _very_ wrong.

"Listen to me." Her voice is low, and quiet. "We have to get you out of here. You and your dwarves, you have to leave, right now.

I didn't know it was that bad. Before, I had assumed that we had a couple of days, but now she's making it seem like we don't have any time at all.

"Whoever it is that is taking over your visions, Thorin, just tried to take control of your head and your body, and they _did_ \- you said you didn't know you were talking, they made you talk -"

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It will." She says. "It will if you stay here any longer because they will come, now that they know where you are, and harm you. That's why you need to get far away from here."

I stare at her.

A million thoughts whipping through my mind.

 _You have to leave_.

She leaves the room to find Gandalf and round up the dwarves, but the second she closes the door I get up, blankets twisting around me, and I feel my limbs come to life again. I can do this. I can. I shove my clothes and my boots on, and sling my sword onto my belt, getting ready for the journey ahead.

I go to the door, and listen for their hushed tones, but I don't hear any. Maybe he's gone. Maybe he left -

The door bursts open, nearly knocking me off my feet, and I'm suddenly face to face with Gandalf.

"Good." He mutters. "You're ready."

I swallow, straightening. "Where do you propose we go?"

He looks at the ground, and then back at me. Something tells me I won't like what he has to say.

"Somewhere I wanted to avoid, but now it is our only option." Gandalf leans in, and his voice is low as he whispers to me.

" _Mirkwood_."

The two syllables I didn't want to hear but somehow I knew, I was dreading it.

I shake my head. "Surely, there must be another way, Gandalf. We cannot resort to this - that forest is dangerous, it will put the safety of my dwarves in jeopardy, the quest -"

"Your safety, Thorin Oakenshield, is out of window at this very moment!" He snaps. "And your quest - well, I must say I had not planned for you to take this route, but, coincidentally, the path through Mirkwood will take you just south of Esgaroth on the Lake. It is quite a handy shortcut, and it would be more in use if it weren't for the fact that…"

"The place is cursed." I finish for him, following him out into the main room. The fire there lies cold in the grate, and everything would be deserted if it weren't for the clamoring of the dwarves outside. "I don't care how much of a shortcut it is, I won't allow -"

Gandalf whirls to me, eyes flashing. "It doesn't matter if you won't allow it. The forest being cursed will be a blessing, as it will hide you from your tormentor."

" _What_?" I can barely believe my ears.

"Mirkwood can protect you from being found, because of all the noise of curses it contains, and no one ventures into that place anyway -"

"For good reason." I mutter, and Gandalf glares at me.

"- so it may hide you. There are possibilities that it will do the opposite…"

"What?!" I explode.

"But you do not have a lot of other options, as everywhere else will be sure to expose you."

I begin to protest, but then I stumble outside into the daylight, and see Dwalin turn to me, the dwarves behind him, looking worried and Bilbo gulping like a fish.

And the one person who shouldn't be on my mind at that very moment is there, suddenly, and I hate myself for it.

"Where is Gwen?" I ask him, voice quiet.

"She has gone to scout the borders of the forest for any sign of danger. We will proceed when she returns."

"And if she doesn't?" I press, before I can stop myself. Gandalf says nothing, his mind already elsewhere. Out the corner of my eye I can see Dwalin looking at me suspiciously, so I angle my head towards the sun, making sure he doesn't see the self doubt on my face.

Then, she returns.

Striding up the hill, dark hair twisting around her in the wind, contrasting to her pale face. But what surprises me most is that I take the steps out to meet her first, to stand in front of her and ask her about the danger.

"None." She says, not meeting my eyes. "But you should leave, quickly. I have a feeling that you will be in more peril if you do not."

Her voice expresses a certain sadness, and worry, although I do not know what it is for. I feel as if I know everything and nothing about her.

"I-"

Gandalf approaches, grey robes billowing around him, as the wind picks up speed. He looks at Gwen, deeply, as if imparting secret information to her. Their exchanges, I will never understand.

They embrace, and she nods to him after drawing away. Turning to me, he frowns.

"I will set out on my horse. Be quick to join me, as the wind is blowing the wrong way, and the more time you spend here the more danger you will find yourself in."

Without a single word more he mounts his grey - white horse, and sets off in a slow trot.

My eyes settle on her face, her eyes, seeing them follow his outline as he goes. The wistfulness of her hits me again, and I want to ask her what is wrong, but I know I must go. There is nothing else left to do.

"Thank you for your hospitality." I say, my voice deeper than I mean for it to come out. "I am indebted to you."

Gwen's eyes lock onto mine, and she seems unsure. An expression that I never see on her face, like she never has any reason to be uncertain. Then again, how could I presume to know her?

"I hope that you find sanctuary." She says, softly. "Whether that be as a king or as a traveller."

Suddenly I realise that all the dwarves are gone, and it is just us, and the wind around us. It feels like we're the only two in the world, and there is so much to say, so much to do, but time stands still for a while as we look at each other, as if it doesn't matter, as if time does not exist.

But it does. And it's pressing into my neck like a sharp sword.

"I must be on my way." I say, but I make no move to go.

"That you must." Gwen replies, but her eyes are on my lips, and then mine are too, and I can't think. I can't breathe. All I can hear is the wind and my beating heart as we inch closer to each other, closer than we have ever been -

A harsh rattling sound comes from within her cabin, as the wind shakes the fragile windows. She blushes, then looks down, and we move apart, the moment lost.

"Will you be alright?" I ask, my voice cracking ever so slightly. "Will you be safe?"

A small smile graces her mouth. "I'll try."

And then I know that that is the only answer she can give me, because who knows? Who knows what path Mahal has hewn for both of us?

"Goodbye, Thorin." She says, turning back to head towards her home.

"Goodbye." I hear myself say, but it seems like more of an echo. Time is ticking. Time is real, and I must move on.

I take my first step out towards the unknown in days, but I am ready.

 _Only because she made you to be,_ a voice whispers.

So I allow myself one last glance at her, and at that moment, she turns back, too, and her eyes sparkle in the feeble ray of sunshine that filters through the clouds. Her eyes, forest green.

"Goodbye, Gwendolyn." I murmur, knowing she won't hear me, and she has already turned away, and I watch her as she disappears into her cabin, before I finally turn my back and go.

 **A/N**

 **Yes, I know, the goodbye may have been a bit cliché and cheesy but it felt good to write, because it means the story is moving on.** **Hopefully you have enjoyed this chapter. The next few will be a bit more suspenseful, so consider the last part of this chapter as the calm before the storm. Stay tuned for more coming soon. :)**


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen: Gwen

Just like that, they are gone.

He is gone.

And I can't shake the vision of Thorin standing opposite me, wind tousling his silky, dark hair, his face more open and expressive than I have ever seen it.

I don't think he realised that I heard his trembling whisper as I walked away, his voice seeming to caress my name. No one has ever said my name like that, before. Not even the faceless strangers in my dreams.

I sigh, and go into the kitchen, leaning on the sill and staring out of the window. It is so odd how familiar they became to me, almost like friends.

That is the price you pay for getting too attached.

But for a moment there, I wanted company again, I wanted to wake up and greet people, hear their voices make idle conversation, eat with me in the evenings.

Now I don't know what I want. There is no way I can possibly go back to the life I lead before, I know that, because now I have felt what it is to be around others, now I have formed relationships I thought I would never again form. I find myself wishing they could have stayed longer, that we could have had one last night together without any fear.

But that is not the way the world works. It is cruel and twisted and it does not want you to be happy. It seems to me that all it wants is for you to suffer alone, no matter how hard you try, you only have yourself.

I shake my head, trying not to think grim thoughts, trying to distract myself.

But the only person I have now...is me.

That night, before I go to bed, I make sure to bolt all the doors and windows. Worry is beginning to creep in, though I'm not sure why...no one has come yet, nothing has happened.

I sit by the fireplace, thinking, remembering.

Most of all, I remember Thorin. A character I still can't quite make out now. He is a mystery, a cryptic puzzle hidden under a stoic and serious façade. I remember never quite knowing how to act around him, a sense of trepidation that came over me when he would enter the room, and the intense worry I felt when he was injured. Even when he was healing I wanted to check in him all the time, but I felt nervous and anxious to. I hated and loved being responsible for the health of the future King Under the Mountain, and I will admit it, under all the angst and irritation we had around each other, I don't know why, but I feel empty now. He is gone into that hellish forest and I don't know if I will ever see him again. Or any of them.

I have to go, I tell myself.

But it's dangerous…

Yeah, so what? You can shoot and you're good with a blade. Plus, you know your directions.

You wouldn't survive a minute in that place...you barely survived last time…

I don't want to think of it!

But you almost went mad…

Shut. Up.

I sigh, a little louder than I mean to. Will I risk my own life to help them? Or will I stay here alone whilst everyone else has gone off to do something..

It's time to break out, I decide. I can't go on living like this anymore. I can't live alone, fighting Orcs off the borders and defending the place from black magic. I can't keep driving darkness away, only for it to come back again and again. I can't live with the memories and the image that haunt my dreams at night. I have to go, I have to run and join the fray, even if it means I see things I don't want to see, I must do it.

I feel my eyelids begin to droop, fighting to stay open, and sleep overcomes me. My dreams are painted with Orcs and Dwarves and what will happen, when I go into the woods.

 **A/N** **Hope you enjoyed this installment of the Forest Huntress! It may seem like a filler chapter, which it is, but that's only because I wanted to tide you over as I write chapter sixteen, where the dwarves go into Mirkwood. I promise it will be more exciting.** **As ever, I'm intrigued to know what your thoughts are on this fic, so don't hesitate to share!** **Stay tuned :)**


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Fourteen: Thorin

I cannot tell if it is just the worry distorting my vision, but a dark cloud seems to settle over Mirkwood, painting the sky the colour of misery and misfortune.

 _You swore to yourself that you would never come to this accursed place. And now, look where you are._

I glance behind me, at the plains and hills that seem so friendly compared to the overbearing wood before me. If there was only another way, I would take it. I would do anything to avoid this place.

But one stern look from Gandalf tells me that there is no going back. Not now, not ever.

He swings from his mount, and walks towards me.

"I must leave you, now."

And I have to do my utmost not to shout at him, and command him to stay. I take a deep breath. "Gandalf," I begin, but he doesn't listen to me. He seems far away, as if something is on his mind, hauntinh his every thought.

"I shall meet you on the Lonely Mountain." His grey hair falls over his face as he leans forward to whisper conspiratorially.

"Where are you going?"

Finally he looks directly at me, somewhat apologetically. "There is something I must do."

 _Are all wizards this cryptic?_ I wonder.

I lower my voice. Because there is something on _my_ mind, too.

"What if I have more visions? What are we to do then?"

Then his expression gets darker, as if this is the question he had wanted to avoid.

"I will do my best to prevent you from getting the visions, and I have placed a herbal medicine in your pack to placate them if they come. But you must move quickly. I suspect that he will be following you, before long."

"He?" I blurt, panic rising. "Gandalf, what -"

"You must stick to the path. Do not move from it. If you do," his face grows ominous, "you will be gravely lost."

He grips my arm for a moment in a goodbye and turns, mounting his horse. All I can do is watch as our last help rides away into the distance.

"His way of saying we're doomed." Dealing mutters darkly. "I don't like the look of this place, Thorin."

"Nor I." Dori says. "It looks like a dangerous place."

"It reeks a foul odor of necromancy and devilry." Balin replies, letting out a sigh. "But it is our only hope."

He rests his beady eyes on my face for aa

second, then looking on with trepidation.

"You knew we would have to cross mountains and valleys, build bridges and shelter, and tackle all sorts of terrain."

I clench my jaw. "I wasn't exactly banking on this."

But I take the first step under the archway and into the damned place anyway.

After what feels like days, but is probably only hours, everyone grows unusually silent. Usually they are a rambunctious lot, cracking jokes and fooling around, but not today. I take a moment to look back from my place at the front of the group.

Fili and Kili walk side by side behind me, eyes darting nervously about the dark, airless forest, hands straight onto their weapons at any noise or movement. Bilbo looks slightly queasy, beads of sweat forming on his brow, Dori and Nori mumble to each other, and even Bofur, almost always in a chipper mood, looks like he's just walked into hell itself.

Because that's certainly what it feels like. With every breath, the compression on our chests becomes heavier. With every step further into the unknown, our hearts beat faster. The darkness descends more and more as we venture further and further, struggling to see the path beneath our feet. The pressure in my head torments me, making me annoyed at every little thing.

I try to think of other things than our possibly impending doom, as Dwalin seems to predict, to take the thoughts away. But it becomes hard to focus on the quest and all the strategies and plans I had mapped out in my mind are suddenly useless. I can't help thinking that this feeling will never end, no matter what I do, that I will always be chasing something I just can't get to, as in a dream, my feet slow and my heart heavy.

 _I hope you find sanctuary._ _Whether that be as a king or a traveller._

Her soothing voice comes into my mind, and I think of it, of her. Just her voice, and the peace she hopes I will get.

I swallow, guiltily. I realise that I could never wish her that, because the awful truth is, she won't get it, not if she stays alone in that cabin. I could almost feel the pain, the constant ache upon her chest, perhaps at being alone, or at something else. Whatever it is, it doesn't promise her sanctuary.

When she seems to be the one who deserves it the most.

My boot snaps a twig, breaking me from my thoughts, and I realise.

We've lost the path.

The only comforting thing in this place, the stone under our feet, is gone. In our dazed and confused states we must have strayed from it.

I turn to Dwalin, a sickening feeling in my stomach. Surely he must know it, too.

"Where is the path?" I say, slowly, dreading his response. Because the moment he realises it, his face darkens.

"We've lost it! We've lost the path!" Someone yells, but I can't hear, I can't think. My mind is fuzzy with panic.

"Oh no," Ori wails. "We'll never get to the mountain. We're cursed!"

"Look for the path." I say, but it comes out cracked and dry. I raise my voice to a frantic yell. "Look for it, all of you!"

But everyone just stumbles round drunkenly, unable to shake the restless feeling from their heads. They collide with each other, grumbling, calling out, and I feel like pounding at the ground with my fist, but really it feels as if a fist is hitting the inside of my skull, and I cover my head with my hands.

And then, through the gap in my fingers, I see something.

Bilbo, climbing a tree.

I stare up at him, his nimble figure darting up the tree until he disappears into the branches and I can't see him.

Then I hear him shouting from the upper limbs of it, urgently, but his voice is muffled by all the leaves and undergrowth that absorbs the sound.

"Mr Baggins!" I call up the tree, but the haze in my mind is thick, too thick, and I can't hear his response at all. I shout again.

Then, all I hear is a great thud, and all is still.

I open my eyes and my mouth at the same time, and get a mouthful of cobwebs.

It must have been hours, because I feel the thirst in my mouth, and the need to relieve myself.

Peering through the white mess, I see great things moving around and hissing to one another in a tongue I do not know… with huge legs and sharp fangs.

Giant spiders.

Suddenly my whole body is awake and on fire as one of them approaches me, and leans in to kill. I can't move. I'm stuck here in this godforsaken web and I can't get out. _Oh, how I'd love to run my sword through its head._

Suddenly it lets out a horrible gurgling sound and falls through the trees.

 _What!?_ _But I didn't even move -_

Then I see a flash of white, and suddenly I'm falling through the trees, thudding against them, and dropping down hard onto the forest floor.

My head spin, making me see stars, but I blink and Bilbo is standing there, scratched and covered in cobwebs, but alive. The dwarves are all around, struggling out of their cocoons, waiting. He releases me from my cobweb prison and I jump up, opening my mouth to say something, but Bilbo shushes me.

Slowly, cunningly, they drop down one by one.

The sickening feeling returns again.

And then they snarl and hiss, clicking their massive pincers, and they come for us.

I swing my sword, letting it slice through a spider, barely registering its anguished cry as I run my blade into another's head. When they die, their legs fold up around them, and the eyes stare up into the sky, glassy and solid looking.

We're in the thick of it, spiders all around us, and the only thing running through my mind as I stab them is, _how are we going to get out of here alive?_

I hear Dwalin yell from behind me, his axe taken by one of the spiders. He has thrown it and it has landed in one of them, but only the tip, not enough to kill it. It's crawling away at an alarming rate, and I run towards it, but I'm not going to be able to make it in time.

I curse under my breath, lurching towards it -

It spots me, and hisses in delight, throwing me to the ground, and encasing me under its legs. I thrash around, trying to stab it, but it stands on my sword, making me completely defenceless.

It snarls, going in for the kill, when I hear a twang, and an arrow whistles out of nowhere and pierces the spider, and suddenly it topples backwards, legs in thr air, freeing me and my sword.

 _That's strange, I don't remember any of our company being that skilled with a bow and arrow,_ I think to myself. I crawl away from under the ginormous spider and look around to see who shot the beast.

Then I see a flash of dark brown hair - a woman, a familiar blade hanging from her belt. _It can't be…_

A spider strikes at me, and I slay it with my sword before it can kill. But I look back and the woman is gone, almost as if I imagined her.

This forest is getting to me. It can't be her. We left her ages ago, outside of Mirkwood. _I_ left her, with a trembling whisper, and she was gone.

She can't be here, I resolve. It's just my mind playing tricks on me in this damned forest.

As soon as we get out of here, the better. But without the path, our chances are dying.

My heartbeat thunders as I can see that the spiders are going to overcome us. They just keep coming in waves, constantly, unforgivingly.

We are outnumbered.

Then I see agile, tall, fast creatures jumping from tree to tree above our heads, slaying spiders.

My heart sinks.

Elves.

Yet another thing I swore to ignore, to never have anything to do with them. To block them from memory forever.

But it seems that fate is not on our side.

They will surely capture us. I didn't realise, but we must be well outside of the path now, to be within the Elf kingdom borders. How on Arda did this happen?

 _We strayed from the path_.

I want to kick myself, and the others. How could we do this? How could we be so foolish? How could we condemn ourselves, after everything we've been through?

Once it appears that there are no more spiders, the Elves jump down from the trees. There is nowhere to escape, because, like the spiders, they come from all around, running down branches and surrounding us.

One with whitish - blonde hair addresses us in Elvish with a smirk, eyes flashing dangerously. He's the leader of the pack and seems arrogant, and his second in command is a red haired she - elf. They converse in Elvish for a few moments whilst their comrades stare us down, arrows poised to fly, and finally the redhead makes a signal for them to withdraw their arrows.

The leader says a word and the Elves approach us and begin to search us, the leader heading for me. When he finds my blade, (the Elvish one we found in the cave) he eyes it carefully. He obviously recognises it and thinks I stole it.

"It was given to me." I snarl.

"Not just liars, but thieves, too." The leader's eyes harden, and he commands the Elves to escort us. It is almost comforting to know that they hate us as much as we hate them.

"Where's Bilbo?" Bofur hisses to me. Then it occurs to me. The Hobbit, our burglar, has completely disappeared.

Without thinking, I struggle against the elf assigned to escort me, craning my neck to glimpse at the trees behind us, praying to see the burglar, but the seemingly thin, wiry arms of the elf are strong and he twists me back roughly.

" _Don't move, dwarfish scum_." He spits violently.

And as much as I want to run his stuck - up face through, I grudgingly follow his lead, because there is no other option.

We move through the trees, and they gradually begin to grow less wild, with pale silver coloured trunks and leaves that seem more delicate, and the air slightly cleaner than it was before, less compressing. There is the noise of a river, which clears my head, the white noise helping me think.

We cross a bridge across it, which cascades over rocks and travels smoothly along the riverbed, and the trees twist and cross over each other elegantly.

They force us through and we continue down another twisting stone path like the one we've just been on, entering the palace that stretches up into the trees that stand like sentinels. They are tall and thin like the Elves themselves, and slowly die away to reveal stone pillars and carvings.

Before I know it, the rest of the company are thrown into cells, but I am escorted to the king's throne room.

It reeks of the arrogance of elves.

His throne is high up and draped with elaborate silks and he sits atop it, regally, staring down at me and smirking, as if he knows something that I don't.

I lift my head defiantly. He will not get to me. I will not let him get away with coming between us and our homeland. That's all that matters.

"Thorin Oakenshield." He sneers. "The king under the mountain."

My fists clench of their own accord, and I'm ready to fight him, I -

But then I stop.

I stop dead in the middle of my sentence, and everything seems to stand still.

Forest green eyes flicker up to meet mine.

 **A/N** **This update has been quicker, but I couldn't wait to get this chapter up for you all - hopefully you enjoy it!** **Big thanks to the new followers/favouriters, (if that's even a word) it means a lot to me that there are more of you reading this story. Stay tuned, because more exciting things are coming!** **(also, sorry - not - sorry that I left you all on a cliffhanger, haha)**


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen: Gwen

When I wake, the sun has barely risen from beneath the mountains, and a sliver of shadow still falls across my cabin.

It does not deter me.

I know what I have to do.

A few minutes later, I am leaving my cabin with my pack and weapons. Standing on the crest of the hill, fresh dew from the grass seeping into my shoes, I glance back at my home.

The sunlight gradually begins to show, casting beams onto the windows and roof. It has been my home for many years now, ever since I escaped my old kingdom and never looked back. And now I'm looking back at my cabin.

 _You're moving on,_ my inner voice tells me. _This is a good_.

But I can't help feel a pang of sadness at leaving. Perhaps I will come back once the dwarves have completed their quest. Or maybe I will find a new home.

Either way, I must keep going.

When I reach the forest border, I stare up at the trees looking above me ominously.

I really don't like this forest.

But I drag myself into the depths, feeling the darkness close around me once I am finally immersed in the sea of trees.

I have been told of forests, beautiful ones by my mother. One I remember her telling me of was Lothlorièn - there, the leaves glisten and bloom with delicate colour, ever changing with the seasons, gold and red and silver. But here, there are hardly any leaves at all, and where there are they are crippled and dry. The branches of the wood reach out like gnarled fingers, stretching towards some light they cannot reach. I never thought I could both pity and fear nature at the same time, but I do. This forest had been cursed, just as I had remembered from my dreams. The trees are rotting, covered in a slimy black substance. The undergrowth hides all manner of creatures lurking in the darkness, with yellow eyes like lamplights and pattering feet that seem to follow me, but never emerge from the gloom.

I shudder, and keep on walking.

The air feels as if it's pressing down on my ribcage, making me struggle to breathe comfortably...almost suffocating, but not enough to kill me.

I rummage in my pack, find my water skin and drink thirstily, but make sure to save some for later. I don't know how long I will be in this accursed forest for, but I know that I must find the dwarves.

When I get to them, I know I must have a plan. Wanting to avoid as much contact with the kingdom of possible, I decide it will be best to go on ahead as a scout for them until they reach Laketown. Hopefully then I will be in the clear, away from Thranduil's guards.

Desperately, I hope that the king's scouts and hunters have not found the Company yet. Not just for their own sake, but also for mine - I would have to go and bargain with the king in his court under the trees to let them go free.

It wouldn't come to that.

Wouldn't it?

Because if I do, they would find out the truth about me.

Thorin would find out the truth about me.

And that can never happen.

I recall as a young child, before my little brother was born, my parents would take me through streams and over hills, under crevices and atop mountains travelling. They always avoided taking me to their kingdom,as it would put both them and me in danger in ways none could imagine. But, of course, we could not dodge the truth.

At first, I was completely enchanted by the kingdom.

" _Mama, this is beautiful."_ _She smiles down at me, eyes glistening._ _"I'm glad you like it, my love. It is indeed."_ _I feel my chubby child cheeks rise in a grin, and an immediate want to discover everything there is to see in the place._ _"Wait a minute, child.Your father and I are just going to see the king. Wait by these doors."_ _My mother disappears with my father through a set of intricately carved pale blue wood doors. I place my plump childlike hand on them, and press my ear to the wood, to eavesdrop. What_ _I_ hear _is muffled, but there all the same._ _"...your child is outside, I presume?"_ _"Yes, your majesty." I hear my mother's pensive voice through the doors._ _"Did I not tell you the dangers of bringing a child into this world? What you would be exposing her to? I warned you. I told you a child should never exist." The king's voice is low and dangerous, and it sends shivers down my spine._ _"As long as you are in this kingdom you are under my command. The child must be sent away."_ _"Sent..away, your majesty? To where?"_

" _You must hide her far away, away from my kingdom and the wilderness that lies around it. That is your punishment, for disobeying your orders. You were instructed not to bear a child, yet you did. I cannot help but ask you to pay the price, as much as it pains me. Send her away, hide her, and you will have my forgiveness. Keep her within your embrace and I will have to resort to worse measures."_ _My heart pounds in my small chest. Send me away? But why? And what is this talk of disobeyment?_ _"...yes, your majesty." My mother and father say in unison, both their voices trembling with fear and worry._ _Thranduil's menacing_ _tone takes on a softer one._ _"You may see the child once every year after she turns eight years of age. Until then, teach her how to grow up and take care of herself. But I give you fair warning. This is for the good of this kingdom and the safety of its people, and...her own."_ _Mother rushes out of the pale blue doors with father, and wordlessly they each take my hand and walk toward the horses with me._ _"Mama? What is wrong?" I ask tentatively._

" _Papa?"_ _"Hush, Gwendolyn." My father says softly, helping me up onto the horse. Soon we are riding like the wind back through the forest, and away from the beautiful fairytale kingdom of dreams, and into stark reality._

Tears sting my eyes.

They never sent me that far away, as Thranduil had commanded, but a part of me feels like they left me behind anyway. We moved further from the kingdom, and my parents went on more quests, leaving me alone for months at a time. I had no way of knowing when they'd come back, or if they would come back. Those days were cold days of loneliness and the feeling of grief, as if once they'd gone they'd never come back and I would never know what happened. There only the days where they would come riding up the path, and I would run and jump to hug them in relief that they were there.

One day, my mother returned with a fever. My father told me she was pregnant. That night, my brother was born. They named him Caspian. She was left weak by the birth, never the same again, but she was so happy. Father was happy, too.

And I loved Caspian with all my heart, but I knew what my parents had done was a terrible mistake. They had committed a crime.

As he was growing up, my parents seldom left us. I think it was because they knew what they had done.

I tear my thoughts away from those days. They are behind me know. The past is past, and time will only tell what the future holds. I cannot cling to the memories. I cannot linger thinking about what has once been and what will never be again.

I feel as if I've been walking for an age, trying to stick to the path, but knowing that if I do not it is not such a bad thing. I've been here before, and I know how this forest works, with all its twisting paths and passages.

But then I begin to see white cobwebs coating the trees, and I know that I've ended up walking straight into the lion's den.

Or the spiders nest, as it were.

I shiver, knowing that they are all around, and when they see me I am as good as dead. So if I want to stay alive, and reach the others, I will have to be silent as the grave and not attract their attraction.

Through the trees I can see them, hissing to one another greedily as they bind bodies in their sticky cobwebs. _What if that's Bilbo or Thorin they're binding?_

I have to save them, whoever they are.

Slowly I inch closer to the clump of trees where the heart of the spiders nest is, and climb one of them stealthily. Luckily, I have had a lot of practice at this, but the dwarves have not. I can only guess that was how they were caught in this unfortunate situation.

Suddenly, I see a flash of gold.

Bilbo appears right in front of my eyes.

I cover my mouth with my hand to hide the gasp that emits it. His head jerks towards me, and he looks just as shocked as I feel, but presses his finger to his lips and pockets something. I struggle to see what it is - but all I can make out is the shimmering gold that it is made of.

I join him and he leads me over to where the others lie, unconscious in their cobweb tombs. We slip through the branches, both light on our feet, every muscle straining not to make a sound.

He motions to me, and I know what we have to do. I grab the nearest dwarf - cocoon and shove. I can only hope all the cobwebs will cushion his fall.

They fall through the trees, and in the quiet the noise sounds like thunder. The spiders are upon us in seconds.

I whip out my bow and arrow and begin to shoot them down, one by one, and Bilbo attacks them as best as he can with his dagger. Once we diminish them - knowing there are still more to come - we drop to the forest floor.

Thinking quickly, I run and hide behind some vegetation, and shoot as best as I can from there.

It's best that they don't see me. If they did, it would catch them off guard, putting them in worse danger than they are already in.

And then I see him.

Effortlessly wielding his sword, slaying spider after spider. His strong arms grip the hilt, bringing the blade down upon the neck of one of the foul creatures. His hair flies out from behind him, all silky raven hair with linings of silver - how is it that he still looks majestic, even after being trapped in cobwebs?

 _Stop getting distracted_.

But the way he moves when he fights is mesmerising, physical strength and fortitude radiating off him, fearlessness as he leads the Company.

A true leader.

Even when I know how he was, and will be, plaugued by the visions and tormented by what the future holds... what responsibility the past threw upon him.

Suddenly, I see Dwalin shout to Thorin something, and whip around to see the tip of his axe - his only weapon - lodged in the back of a spider, which is scuttling away. Thorin runs after it, and already I can see what's going to happen.

An image of him being stabbed to death by a spider flashes across my mind.

 _No_.

Without thinking, I raise my bow, on impulse and aim carefully at the spider who has Thorin trapped under its legs, poised to kill.

I shoot the arrow, letting it fly through the air and pierce the spider, killing it stone dead.

And then he looks right at me.

But with one fluid turn, I am gone.

The next few moments are like a blur.

Spiders overcoming the dwarves, who are fighting to save their lives and protect each other -

Sudden pattering of light foosteps -

Long haired beings flying through the trees, tall and slender -

Elves -

Elves killing the spiders -

And for a moment it looks hopeful, like they are going to help the dwarves, but then I realise, that would never happen.

Not without them taking something from them in return.

The Elves capture the dwarves, whilst all I can do is watch from a distance.

But you could help -

You could bargain with them -

But that would mean going into Thranduil's kingdom again.

The very thing which would destroy me. I know he would punish me. And I know he would not have mercy.

 _You're just selfish, deciding to save yourself instead of them -_

As the Elves escort the dwarves away, I see that the burglar is not there. He cannot be dead, I know that, because I saw him just moments ago -

Sure enough, I see Bilbo hide behind the trees, slip something into his finger, and vanish into thin air.

Before I have time to think on what I have just witnessed, the Elves are coming my way.

I race ahead, light on my feet, air brushing past me as I run, trembling, hardly daring to look back. Another image flashes in my mind of the dwarves locked up, of Thorin being punished, in a way he could never imagine.

And I realise that I have to do it. I have to help them.

There's no hope of them escaping...I have to.

I reach the palace gates, racing past the guards before they can stop me.

I remember this place. The beauty of it. The twisting trees and rushing waterfalls, the paths that cross over one another. The warm, sweet air and the bewitching music that wafts around, faint but yet clear at the same time. It has not changed since I was last here. It is still the same timeless place I fell in love with.

The same place that seemed to be both a blessing and a curse.

I stumble clumsily into the throne room, catching my breath, my heart pounding so much my head hurts.

I know he's there.

I can feel his presence, and I realise that my heart isn't pounding from the exertion anymore.

Eyes on the ground, I raise my head slowly. I know how it would hurt to look at him, to remember my parents through his eyes. But I feel them burning into me, and I have no choice but to meet his accusing gaze.

Thranduil gestures to a guard by his side, never looking away from me.

"Well, who is this?" He says, each word slipping off his tongue in a somewhat bothered voice.

"I know not, my lord." The guard frowns. "I have not been told of the arrival of anyone today."

Thranduil raises his eyebrows and lifts his head, inspecting me. "Well, then, who are you? Come forth, and speak your name and purpose."

"My name is Gwendolyn. I am daughter of Celandine and Rithríl."

I wait with bated breath for Thranduil's reaction. His auburn eyes become wide and dangerous, and then they narrow in disbelief, his curiosity alight.

"So you...are the child." He says slowly, eyes sweeping over me.

I feel my heart beating fast, but I swallow hard and nod. It feels like I'm perching on the edge of a cliff, teetering on the very brink of it, and this man before me has the power to do anything.

It is a deathly silence for a while. Even Thranduil's guards look scared, their faces white and hands trembling where they grip their blades. They are terrified of him, but I can be stronger.

All that can be heard for a moment is the gentle rush of streams and waterfalls, and voices which echo off the walls in the distance.

"And your purpose here is…?" Thranduil says finally.

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. What can I say? That I want to stop something before it has even happened? The dwarves aren't even here yet. How can I tell him that I want him to set them free when he has not yet heard of their being here?

"Forgive me, your majesty, but I announce the arrival of a company of dwarves in this realm."

I have my back to the guard that announces them, but I can already feel the collective heat of their glares on my back, the dwarves.

And I'm powerless.

"Thorin Oakenshield." I hear Thranduil sneer. "The king under the mountain."

"Would you like me to lock up the rest, my lord?"

Thranduil waves his hand dismissively. "Do what you want. I would like to speak with Thorin Oakenshield."

"Very good, my lord." I hear the grumble of the dwarves as they are escorted back along the path.

Silence.

"Gwendolyn." Thorin whispers from behind me. My heart sinks.

Slowly, I turn around, not wanting to look into his eyes. I don't want to see the emotion that is in them, though I already know it.

But my eyes betray me and I look into his blue ones. He looks questioning, and angry, and sad at the same time.

I can't stand it.

"How delightful. A reunion. You know each other?" Thranduil's voice echoes from where he sits atop his throne.

Neither one of us says anything.

"You must be surprised at finding Gwendolyn here, in this realm. How interesting it will be when you find out her past, Thorin Oakenshield. She certainly has a great deal to share with you, but right now I wish to speak with you."

I turn to walk out, cheeks burning.

This is not what's supposed to be happening right now. I was meant to go in, without Thorin knowing I was there, bargain with Thranduil to get them out, and for them to continue on their way. Everything could've fallen into place. But it didn't.

"Do not make haste, Gwendolyn, I am not finished with you yet."

I inwardly sigh and turn back around, avoiding Thorin's inquisitive gaze. Thranduil begins to speak to Thorin.

"Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand. A quest to reclaim a homeland, and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive. Attempted burglary, or something of that ilk."

When Thorin doesn't reply, Thranduil approaches him, looking at him carefully.

"You have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule. The king's jewel. The Arkenstone." Thranduil says, his voice hardly louder than a whisper. "It is precious to you beyond measure. I understand that.

"There are gems in the mountain that I too desire. White gems, of pure starlight." Thranduil says, twisting his hands and looking into the distance greedily.

"I offer you my help."

Thorin looks at the ground, and for a moment, something close to a smile graces his lips. But it is not a happy or victorious one - it is one that conceals great pain.

I know those types of smiles all too well.

"I am listening." Thorin murmurs, his voice deep.

"I will let you go, if you but return what is mine."

Thorin does not reply, but turns around, hands behind his back. He seems to mull this over, a thoughtful expression on his face. Suddenly he speaks.

"A favour for a favour."

"You have my word. One king to another."

Thorin's gaze becomes cold, his eyes frosting over, but in them a look of pure rage. My heart beats faster. I have not seen him like this, ever.

"I would not trust Thranduil, the great king, to honour his word, should the end of all days be upon us!" Thorin's voice gradually rises to an angry shout that echoes through the palace. He is seething with fury.

"You!" Thorin spits. "Who lacks all honour! I have seen how you treat your friends. We came to you once. Starving, homeless, seeking your help. But you turned your back" Thorin says through clenched teeth, "you turned away from the suffering of my people. The inferno that destroyed us."

Thorin bellows some words in a tongue that appears to be Dwarvish. Even through his anger, and the open tension in the air, I feel the meaning behind them and it chills me to my bones.

Thranduil looks furious too, his face twisting with anger.

"Do not speak to me of dragon fire. I have seen its wrath and ruin." Thranduil hisses, livid. Suddenly one side of his face begins to peel away like a curtain to reveal hideous burned flesh underneath, the bones, muscle and broken tissue all visible. It is a horrible sight. Even Thorin seems repulsed by it, but Thranduil continues, pulling away. As he does the curtain of skin falls back over. "I have faced the great serpents of the north. I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon. But he would not listen. You are just like him."

"Stay here if you will and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an Elf. I am patient. I can wait." He spits.

Silence reigns for a few moments, and I begin to think that if I took my blade from my belt I could cut through the tension in the air.

"But before I send you away, wouldn't you like to hear about Gwendolyn? I assure you, there are many surprises she has for you." Thranduil sneers maliciously. "The story of her past...of her present.."

I swallow, and make a silent plea. But perhaps it is not so silent, because it is written all over my face, my soul.

 _Please, no._

 **A/N**

 **I hope you have enjoyed reading this chapter. Here we get to see a little bit into Gwen's mysterious past, and you get a little bit of a flashback. I really enjoyed writing this one especially because it's in a different location this time to the cabin where she lives.**

 **As for the last scene, you may have noticed I used a bit of dialogue from the Hobbit film. I admire what they did with that scene and I thought it would be useless for me to write different speech and ruin it.**

 **Thanks so much to those of you who have favourited followed this story. It means so much to me that there are now more of you.**

 **Chapter Eighteen will be up soon, stay tuned :)**


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen: Thorin

I look at her.

And for the first time I see someone who is deathly afraid.

Like an animal trapped in a cage, pent up energy and emotions within her, she wrings her hands, unable to make eye contact with anyone in the room.

I begin to get a feeling of dread in my stomach. What is he about to reveal that gives her so much discomfort? Why is it that she has suddenly gone white, and her hands are trembling?

I can't take this.

I can't see her in this much despair.

I don't know why, but it makes me feel for her.

And then Thranduil speaks.

"I suppose your parents did not deign to come to see me, after all these years." He says simply, steepling his fingers.

"They could not." Her voice is quiet, wispy strands of courage, hung like rags from a fence of ill fate.

Thranduil's eyebrows rise to meet his hairline.

"And why would that be?"

Her head hung low, she whispers something incomprehensible.

"Speak up, child. Your mother and father did that enough for you."

A moment passes before she raises her head, chin lifting in the proud manner I recognise from so many occasions, but her eyes are filled with tears and her voice shaking.

"They're dead."

And her tone speaks of more loneliness than anyone could ever imagine.

"Dead?" The King's voice rings out in the silent court.

All Gwendolyn seems to be able to do is nod slightly in confirmation. A shadow falls over Thranduil's face for a moment, his eyes glaze as if he were remembering something. Perhaps he remembers her mother and father, as he knew them before they died. But the moment passes quickly and his eyes are masked, once again betraying little emotion.

"How did you come to know this?"

Gwen hesitates, for a split second. "I…"

Thranduil leans forward suspiciously. "You were sent away from them, forbidden to see them, but once a year."

Her eyes fall to the floor once more. "They did not send me away."

"What?!" He hisses.

"They did not wish to leave me on my own. I was their only child, and they loved me -" Gwen stops, her eyes pleading."You must not blame them -"

"They betrayed me!" His voice thunders, loudly, making the guards flinch. "It was for your safety, and their own good!"

Her fists clench, and she takes a step forward to the throne. "For their own good? Why would you separate a family for their own good?"

"The good of the kingdom," Thranduil says, "is the good of it's people, and it's spies. Your parents threatened the kingdom when they had you."

"They did not threaten you intentionally!" She fumes. "You had no right - no right - to try and split us apart."

Thranduil sneers. "Believe me, child, I had _every_ right. I still do. You fall under my care now that your parents are dead. I can do what I want with you."

"You do not control me." Gwendolyn says, and turns to leave. "If you have nothing else to say, I will take my leave of you. I am of age, and can take care of myself. I do not need you."

"I am not finished with you yet, child." Danger drips from his tone, stopping her mid - step.

"Fifteen years your mother served me," he says, "and not once did I distrust her, though I had every reason to. She was under my rule, after all, and I was the master of her fate. But I showed her mercy, even when she, a half - elf, trusted your father with her love. I had not anticipated that many humans in our realm, dirtying our blood lines, but still I showed forgiveness. I bound them to a fate together in my kingdom, to serve me, instead of sentencing them to death."

"But you did." She seethes. "You sentenced them to lives they could not escape from, facing certain death every day. Where they feared for themselves and for each other, but could do nothing about it, for they would surely be imprisoned. They never wanted that. You did it all because you wanted them to spy for you, and hoped that they would eventually die, doing it so that you would not have their blood on your hands. Those are the actions of a coward."

His eyes flash, and his voice booms out into the chamber. "Silence!"

His gaze becomes predatory, resting on Gwen, who is still livid with anger.

"Anyone," he says in a low voice, "born from your family has Elvish blood. And so they fall under my rule.

"You will stay here, and live to serve only myself, and this kingdom. You will never leave. I will not let you make the same mistakes as your mother did."

She steps back, as if hit from the force of his words.

Despair fills her eyes, a deep yearning grief, that has been awake in her for years.

"Your majesty, I -"

"Be quiet, filth." He spits, rising from his throne, slowly descending it. "You will never be whole. Tarnished blood runs in your veins. Your grandmother and your mother made the same mistakes in marrying men. They are weak minded, giving in easily to temptation, and untrustworthy.

"Do not think for a second that I would like to keep you here. I would have you disposed of, if you were not so valuable to my kingdom." He moves forward, and suddenly strikes her forcefully across her face, so hard that she falls to her knees.

Thranduil lifts his head, and turns to his guards. "Escort the prisoner to the dungeons. I will deal with the girl."

They move forward and grab me, and I let them take me away, unable to fight back. All I can do is stare at her, as if I didn't know her. I don't.

I realise now that I don't know anything about her.

She raises her head as I walk past, a single tear running down her face.

"Thorin -" she whispers, eyes frantic -

But I turn. I can't look at her. I can't think about her...it hurts. It makes me ache, deep within, and for a moment I feel I have sympathy - being sentenced to a life here, doomed to be in this kingdom forever, under his rule, I almost feel sorry -

But I stop thinking of it. Of her betrayal.

It hurts.

 **A/N**

 **!!!**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter, (it was a bit intense, haha) you got to learn a bit more about Gwen's backstory, but I am leaving out one detail which will be revealed later on in the story, so stay tuned! Sorry I left you on such a sad note, but I felt this story needed a bit more angst in order to develop the relationship between Thorin and Gwen. As we know, Thorin is verrryyy distrustful, especially of Elves, and in order to convey that there needed to be a little more anger and sadness.**

 **Next POV is Gwen's, hopefully I will be able to upload the chapter soon.**


	19. Chapter Nineteen

It's all wrong.

I was meant to help them.

I was meant to save them.

But I didn't.

I barely register the tears blurring in my eyes, barely hear the guards take him away. All I can think about is his face. A look that pains me, that I know will haunt me for the rest of my life. A look of someone who has been betrayed.

The cell they put me in is tiny, making it feel like the world is closing in around me. I stare out of the gap between the bars on the door, feeling sick.

Whatever chances I had persuading the Elven king to let the Company go free are gone now. I know that neither will trust me anymore.

I wonder if my mother is looking down at me now...watching me as I waste away, surrounded by the place she used to love so much, that she wanted me to love.

It was true, they had each other...but they also had me. That was why they could never bear to part with me, why they protected me with all they had.

When I was younger, and asked my parents about their mothers and fathers, my father would not tell me. Mother said he had a difficult upbringing, which left him with too many scars to bear, making it painful for him to tell the tales. But my mother told me that my grandmother was an Elf of Mirkwood, and her name was Angaraline. She was in the woods when she met my grandfather, a man of Rohan, who was injured and would have bled to death if she had left him.

But she didn't. She brought him back to her kingdom, and nursed him back to health. That was the time when he should've left, gone back to Rohan, but there was one fundamental flaw in that plan. They were in love.

And so they married, in secret, and had my mother, who they named Celandine after the bright yellow flowers that had surrounded them when they first met. My mother was tall, and beautiful, with all the physical features of an Elf, but the characteristics of a human. Later on, she would marry my father, a man of Esgaroth, and have me.

I have Elvish blood. I accepted it long ago, as part of who I am. My mother told me that there would be people who would not appreciate that I had mixed blood, that they may want to harm me. It scared me, as a young girl, when she told me this. But she also told me she would protect me. That it would never happen.

She would be heartbroken to see me like this.

So would my father.

Feeling a tear slide down my warm skin, I silently beg their forgiveness.

I don't know how much time had passed when I am roused by angered shouting emanating through the high hallways and passageways.

Oh no. This can't be good.

Pushing myself up with my hands, getting onto my knees, I shuffle as close as I can to the door and press my face against the cool iron bars that block my escape.

"Find them! Do not let them leave this kingdom without my knowledge!"

I recognise the voice as that of the Elven king.

Soon after, he sweeps past my cell. All I can see are silver robes gliding across the floor, but I know it is him, there is no mistaking it.

He stops a few steps away, speaking in more hushed tones to one of the guards.

"They may have reached the river." He mutters. "And when you find them, do not hesitate to kill them."

My heart drops.

It cannot be Thorin. It cannot be. How would they escape? How could it be done, with bars this strong, that not even the strongest of them could break -

Bilbo.

He got them out.

But he did not do the same for me.

Defeated, I lean back against the wall of my cell. There is no hope left for me now.

"But my Lord, the girl."

"What about the girl?"

"Surely she will know where they will be heading. She can lead us to them."

There is a moment of tense silence I can sense even through these walls. "I will not take that chance." Thranduil mutters coldly.

"My Lord -"

"No!" He yells, and his booming voice echoes throughout the chambers. The guard seems to shut up after that. I crane my head to see further, but I can only glimpse a bit of them. Sighing, I give up, slumping down with my back to the wall.

After what seems like hours, but has only been a matter of minutes, I hear loud footsteps coming down the path outside the cells and stopping abruptly.

"My Lord, they've slaughtered many of our men. Only a few have returned alive. We could not track them - they're moving too quickly."

Once that statement has been delivered, the Elven King's reprimands can be heard probably from the edge of Mirkwood.

"Have you no good news to tell me?!" He hisses finally. I hear a slight whimper from the guard, and I instantly move to the door. Thranduil has the man's long silken locks in a fist, pulling violently.

"Th - there is something, m-my Lord -"

"What!?" Thranduil spits, pulling harder. The poor guard whimpers some more and talks.

"Th-there was an Orc attack - as they were escaping, they came in droves - f-for the king Thorin -"

Thranduil yanks hard. "Never will you use his name in these halls!"

"F-forgive me, my Lord...they managed to escape the dwarves, but…"

"But what?"

"But there were many of them, sire. I believe they will return, stronger in numbers. They will not rest until they have the dwarf king's head."

My stomach plummets. Their chances slim - I'm surprised they managed to fight off the Or attack by themselves. The guard is right. They will be back. If Thorin's head is what they're after, they will be back.

Thranduil releases the guard, and frowns, deeply in thought.

"Yes...they will not stop, indeed." He says. "But I want the prisoners brought back to me. They belong in these dungeons for trespassing in my kingdom."

"Yes, m-my Lord." The guard says, voice quivering as if he is still in pain from the earlier interrogation.

"I will send out my son and the captain of the guard. Your section will follow if they do not return within a day's time."

The guard nods, and turns to leave.

"Wait," Thranduil calls. The guard freezes in his step, terrified that the king has decided to punish him instead.

"I will send the girl with them." He resolves.

I frown.

"My Lord?" The guard asks, utter relief on his face.

"She is an asset. She has somewhat of a relationship with the king. His personal concubine, no doubt." He adds, muttering.

My cheeks burn at the insinuation even in the cool darkness of the cell. Is that all he believes I am?

"Anyhow, she will know their plans and where they are heading. She will help bring them to me."

"Very good, my Lord."

A few moments later, the cell door swings open. I look up, only to have the guard grab my arm and pull my to my feet, still keeping a firm grip on it should I make for an escape.

Thranduil stares at me. "It seems my wish to keep you in the kingdom forever has not been granted. You are needed."

"What for?"

"You will call me My Lord." He snarls.

I try not to roll my eyes. "What for, my Lord?" I draw out the last part sarcastically, which he does not reprimand me for, but the animosity between us is strong.

"Do not pretend you have not overheard all that I have said. You will leave accompanied by Legolas and Tauriel, the captain of the guard, and assist them in finding and capturing the prisoners." He says. "If you make but a move to escape, my guards will catch you and bring you here to be punished. Do you understand?"

I feel the weight behind his words. I don't doubt that he will punish me, severely.

I can't believe that I thought he was civil to my parents in the past - he showed them mercy, but it was only to benefit him, for his purpose. Whatever small kindness he had in his heart before had been frozen over with greed and malice, a thirst for power and dominion over his lands.

I nod. "I have one request."

Thranduil sighs. "Make it."

"That you give me my weapons back. All of them." I say, hopefully.

He narrows his eyes. "Whatever you are planning, girl -"

"I assure you, I'm not planning anything." I smile wickedly, in the most convincing way I can. I know how to play this. "Perhaps I will need them to subdue the king."

Thranduil raises an eyebrow.

I try to look as truthful as possible, staring up at him. "He had me as his mistress, before. Multiple times." I grit my teeth. "And he cast me aside, as if I was nothing, and moved onto another woman, whom he claims to love."

He tilts his chin. "I see. You want revenge."

"Desperately." I nod. "If I could just get my hands on him -"

"Very well." He cuts me off. "You may have your weapons." He makes a signal for the guard to retrieve them.

As the guard is walking away, Thranduil gets a strange glint in his eyes. "But I expect you to use them, only when the time is right."

I let my lips curl into a smirk, nodding.

This plan had better work.

 **A/N**

 **Hope you enjoyed! more coming soon**


	20. Chapter Twenty

To think I almost felt for her.

The very thought of it makes my face burn as I walk away. I don't even look back.

Because there is no looking back now. There is no forgiveness. It's not that simple.

The tension between Elves and Dwarves does not just stem from their careless abandonment of us when we needed them most, when I needed them for my people to survive, it reaches back further than that. Our bloods have boiled at the sight of each other for many decades. I do not trust a single one, and I doubt I will ever. Their betrayal runs deep - yes, the cut runs very deep indeed. There is no use in denying it.

But this - this is something else.

Something inside me aches, I can feel it. Tears threaten my eyes as they haven't done for years.

But why? Why is it that this girl, who I knew for only a few weeks, has left so deep an impression upon me?

 _She's got Elf blood. You are forgiven for any wayward thought you may have had about her...you wouldn't have known._

She knew exactly the animosity between the two races and chose to ignore it, ignore their ill treatment of your people, and lie to you.

Shock still clouds my brain like the morning mist upon churning waters.

How could this be?

They throw me in a cell, hands rough, but I don't feel.

The Elves blatantly stare at me as if I was a rare specimen, something on the soles of their satin - clad feet, but I don't see.

The dwarves whisper to each other, ask me questions, but I don't hear.

Not really.

Because I'm still thinking about her…

Her smile. Her eyes. Her acceptance. Her ferocity. Her rage. Her tranquility. Her mystery. Her presence.

Only one with the blood of a she-elf would be able to manipulate you like that.

I can't deal with how much it hurts.

And I don't know why. I don't know why, but it feels like it's tearing me apart.

I let my head fall back onto the cell wall, and close my eyes.

 _Why_?

A loud grunt wakes me up from my half-slumber. Head thumping, I open my eyes groggily, rubbing them to see properly. The loud, deep growls seem to be coming from a cell close to mine. I peer through the bars, and see Dwalin, both hands gripping the door, trying to rip it off its hinges and set himself free.

They're clamoring. I know they're restless.

This wasn't how we - nor I - imagined the quest to go. We knew it wouldn't be easy, that fate was against us - but I wanted to avoid this place at all costs.

And now that I'm trapped in a cell right in the middle of that place, I understand their frustration.

"We're never going to get out!" Bofur cries despairingly, and is met with a chorus of other grunts and mutterings from the others. Some of them, as I strain my neck to see from my awkward position, are simply slumped, head in hands.

"If you had but made the deal with that prissy king," Balin grouses, "we would have been out of here in a jiffy."

I clench my jaw. "And what if I had?" I say, expecting Balin to know better. "I will not sacrifice the values of my grandfather -"

I see Balin shake his head. "If you could but see past your pride, Thorin -"

"You know as well as I do the treachery of the Elves!"

"-I feel that it will be your downfall. You cling to the past so much that it will only hurt you. The girl was right."

"What!?"

"I spoke with her one night. She seemed to understand you in a way that no one could begin to - you know it to be true -"

I turn away, casting my eyes to the ground. "She is nothing to me."

I can almost hear Balin raise an eyebrow, but fury is beginning to brew inside me. She cheated me - she cheated all of us. No matter if she managed to manipulate me, I will not let her get to me any longer. I will not think of her.

"She lied to us." I say, voice shaking slightly. "All of us."

"Thorin -"

"She has Elf blood." I spit angrily. "From her grandmother's side."

And for a moment, all goes silent. The mumbling, the groaning, the noise of the dwarves just stops, leaving a deathly silence in their wake. Even the waterfall in the distance seems to grow quieter in shock.

"Elf...elf blood?" One of them says, their voice cracking slightly, but I don't pay attention.

Did I just hear -

"Half a moment," Fili says, "I believe I just heard someone."

And then, the Hobbit comes around the corner, as if out of thin air, light on his feet. He carries the keys, the keys to our escape. My heart begins to pound as I realise, he came back for us.

Perhaps I really was wrong about him.

I seem to be wrong about everyone lately.

One by one, he releases us from our confinement, and leads us down the path and into a narrow passageway, that continues on for a long time, seemingly burrowing further and further into the earth itself.

Soon, the excitement gives way to annoyance and frustration, and the dwarves begin to grumble again.

"You're meant to be leading us out, not further in!" Hisses Bofur.

"Don't worry, just leave it to me." Bilbo reassures, leading us by the dim light of a lantern. We reach a large chamber. At first I struggle to figure out what is its purpose, but then I see the stacks upon stacks of oak barrels, containing the wine the Elves sell off to Laketown. The trade is crucial for the Elves to maintain the ties between themselves and the Men - perhaps they are the only race who have not come to distrust them.

The guards appear to be asleep when Bilbo gives us the all clear to go around the corner, to a stack of empty barrels, open at the top.

He motions for us to get in.

"What!?"

"You've got to be joking…"

"I'm not getting in there!"

The company begins to mutter again, and Bilbo looks to me helplessly. He'd better have a plan.

I nod. "Get in."

With more mumbling and grumbling, the dwarves pile into the barrels with great difficulty, seeing as they were not built to accommodate the size and stature of dwarves. Once we are all in, I stare at Bilbo, trying to figure out what he's planning.

"What do we do now?"

He rests his hand on a lever and looks at me squarely in the eye.

"Hold your breath."

And barely a second after he finished the last word, the earth seems to spin completely, and everything is turned upside down. I'm moving at an alarming rate down the wooden plank that I thought was part of the floor -

And then I splash thunderously into water. Entirely submerged, I close my eyes shut, and hold my breath, hoping that this will end quickly, and soon.

Then, daylight. Surrounding me, bathing me as I bob down the river. I glance around to see if the other dwarves have made it. They all look thoroughly drenched and unhappy, but then a certain panic takes over everyone's thoughts. We've made it over the first hurdle...but what about the next?

"Mr Baggins!" I shout. "What is the next stage of your plan?"

His face goes sheet white as he looks behind me, and then I realise: there never was another stage of the plan.

An arrow whizzes by my head, barely missing my ear. I whip around.

The guards have already found us.

Suddenly they appear everywhere, arrows flying at us that we try to dodge by ducking down underwater, and then springing back up, only to have to do it again. My chest, by the fifth time, feels full of water, but there's no time to worry about that now. There's only time to act, and act fast.

The river is carrying us speedily down the land and towards the lake, but I know the Elves can run fast. If we could lose them somewhere, then maybe -

"Thorin!"

I hear a yell, and look over to see Dwalin pointing at something coming through the trees.

 _Not more Elves_ , I think.

But the close that I look, I begin to see that they are not Elves. They are bulkier, sturdy builds, markings on their skin, markings I know too well -

Hands grab my barrel and yank me out of the way as a loose blade comes flying at me.

I know I should look back to thank my saviour, but the Orcs have reached the banking that curves along the line of the river, and are beginning to attack.

I should've known.

I should've known that they were coming.

Their black, soulless eyes are staring straight at me, craving my head, my blood spilt, painted over the trees and rocks for everyone to see. It's the only way they can survive. Otherwise they will die themselves. It's my blood, or theirs.

I lean back and blindly grip the branch of a tree above, hauling myself out of the barrel, whipping out my broadsword, and fighting off as many Orcs and Elves as I can at once.

They fall into the water, bodies sinking to the riverbed. I run down the branch and leap back into my barrel, landing right in it.

With the gates fast approaching, there is only one option. One of us will have to get out and pull the lever to let us go..

As I'm fighting from my barrel, I see Kili jump out of his and onto the banking. Before he can get to it, though, an arrow flies through the air and imbeds itself in his leg. I hear Fili scream his name as he falls, but all I can manage is a breathless whisper of his name, as I float there, powerless, unable to get to him.

Luckily he manages to pull the lever and get himself back into a barrel, but his face is twisted in pain. I attempt to hold onto something to stop my barrel, wanting to get back to help him, but there's no time -

Violently the water rushes, carrying us with it, occasionally dipping us under its surface, only to come up back up for air, gasping.

The Orcs and Elves chase us in a mad race, a race to kill. They throw blades and loose arrows to try and pierce us but we duck just in time. I don't know how long we are going to be able to hold them off for, until they overcome us. But we continue to slay them as the numbers decrease. Most of the Elves retreat back to the palace, probably to tell the king of our escape. The Orcs lay slain on the ground and sink like stones into the water.

We got out lucky this time, but it won't happen again. As we approach a pebble beach, we drag ourselves to it, out of the barrels, all sopping wet and freezing cold.

My eyes lock onto the horizon, seeking it out, seeking comfort, but it becomes blurred. Lightness begins to infest my brain, haziness in my mind…

"We have to keep moving." A voice sounds muffled. I stumble, walking towards it, reaching out blindly as my vision begins to blur.

 _No_ …

But even my thoughts feel overcast, like there's something coming in. I'm numb, but I feel the wind picking up in my mind.

Something is coming in.

My legs unable to hold me up, I crash to the ground, and the grey of the pebbles is the last thing I see.

 **A/N**

 **!!!**

 **I felt like I owed you a longer chapter after my inconsistent updates...sorry! I hope this one makes up for it. Next POV is Gwen's, hope you stay tuned to read it when I upload.**

 **As always, feedback is welcome, I love to read people's thoughts on this story!**

 **Thanks for reading :)**


	21. Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty One: Gwen

My finger runs along the smooth, flexible wood of my bow, the arches that I cut myself. I poured to much effort into making it - for many hours I sat there, working tirelessly, carving carefully.

It seems like I'll be working for the rest of my life.

Constantly working towards some invisible, unreachable goal, working to set myself free.

And the goal seems farther and farther away every time I look at it.

No matter what I do, it's just out of reach. I stumble towards it, to grab it - reaching out - and then I fall, crashing into an abyss of self - doubt and misery.

 _That's just how it is_ , a voice whispers.

But why? Why, my whole life, have I struggled to make ends meet and get something out of it? I've strived so much, thirsting for something to fill the aching chasm inside, wanting a different life.

I've been trying to make something out of nothing.

Trapped between the two guards, I reminisce of a time where things were simpler. Less people in my life to disturb it. Always there will be the thought that I didn't make the right choice, going into the forest, but there is no turning back.

They walk either side of me, like sentinels of death, silently observing every step I take, waiting for me to make a break for it so they can send me back to be sentenced to execution. I know that's what they want. But I have a plan.

The trees whisper to each other in the light breeze of that morning, and the rushing of the water sings ever softly. This is really a beautiful landscape, but I wish I was here on better terms. Without the shackles.

I could wish many things that would never come true. I could waste my time, but I know it just won't happen. They won't come back. Spring doesn't come without a long winter. The enemy won't stop their evil. Thranduil's frozen heart won't thaw.

Thorin won't ever forgive me.

I feel tears roll down my cheeks and I want to scream.

I want to run.

I feel my legs begin to burn, with the urge to escape.

 _Just wait. Bide your time._

I grit my teeth, take a deep breath, and pick up the pace, prompting them to speed up with me. We've been following some invisible trail, but aren't picking up any clues as to their whereabouts.

Then, the wood breaks out onto a pebble beach next to the river. The pebbles are wet from the spray of a nearby waterfall, and I slow down to a halt. The two catch up to me breathless and panting.

I know one of them is about to say something, but before they do, I notice something. A scrap of something on the pebbles a way away. I walk towards it and crouch by it.

It looks like a discarded scrap of clothing, which could've been ripped accidentally, but that doesn't explain the blood. My mind immediately thinks the worst. Then I see the blood further away, trailing in a long line. It is untouched, seemingly, and fresh. Whoever shed it cannot be far away.

Legolas seems to have the same thoughts.

"We must continue further if we are to find them. They cannot be far now. This blood is fresh." He glances at Tauriel, who gives him a nod. We walk away from the beach and along the side of the river. Not long after our discovery at the beach, we find a mooring spot for barges, empty. It must be one of the ones that takes Elven goods to Esgaroth, to Laketown. On instinct I peer into the distance, to the lake beyond. We are at the other side of it, the wrong side, because obviously the dwarves have found a way across. We are too late.

They don't want to give up too easily, though.

"Come on. We have to find a way across. They have stowed away in a barge across, clearly. Quickly! We are close to the borders of their land. They are strict about trespassers."

"It is too far to walk around," Tauriel says doubtfully, looking warily at the rippling water. "And it would be foolish to swim."

"Yes, that is true." Admits Legolas. "I believe there is a boat somewhere here, for us to get across the lake in any matter of urgency."

"I don't see one." I mutter. "Guess we'll have to swim anyhow."

Tauriel goes white. "No, there must be another way. There must be a boat somewhere."

She begins hiking up the hill through the trees. Legolas looks up with concern and runs after her. "Tauriel, wait! It could be dangerous!"

Guess I've been left alone, after all.

But there is nowhere for me to go. Legolas was right - they've somehow found their way across, and the only way for me to be free is to follow.

Reluctantly, I start up the hill.

To my surprise, in opens out onto a tall cliff, which looks out over the endless lake. It is so high you can see over the mist that shrouds it, and the wooden buildings that rise in the distance, silhouetted at jagged angles.

Legolas and Tauriel stand a few steps away, suspiciously close to one another, deep in conversation. I strain to hear, but they're talking in an older form of Elvish than the one I can understand.

Instead, I inhale deeply, feeling the fresh air enter my lungs, and the cold wind blowing my hair behind me. It reminds me of when I stood upon the small hill near my cabin, watching Thorin go.

So much has happened, but barely any time has passed.

Suddenly, the two become aware of my presence, and Legolas's jaw hardens at the sight of me, and he looks away distastefully.

"Legolas." Tauriel says in a warning voice. "We need to find a way across now."

Legolas nods, looking down at the ground, shoulders relaxing. "Keep looking."

I scan around, wandering in and out of the trees. The ground feels somewhat springy here, fresh with the moisture from the dawn. Moss makes it a bouncy carpet of nature. I look down, frowning. The ground does feel a little too unstable and light here. I bend down to feel it, and it comes away when I brush my hand over it, revealing a small hollow where a boat is hidden. I almost laugh. Of course, the Elves have found an ingenious hiding place. I grip the prow and try to haul it out, but despite how light they are supposed to be, I can't do it on my own. "Found it!" I call.

We all haul it out together, and drag it back down the hill to the water's edge. It is equipped with oars inside, thankfully, and looks like it can take all three of us.

We push off into the calm water that feels like we're floating on clouds, especially in this boat. I could almost be calm, if it wasn't for the feeling of impending doom coming my way.

After about an hour of taking turns to row, we finally see the shore more visibly, and the entrance to Laketown, which is manned with guards and Watchmen, obviously. The wooden structures tower over our small boat soon, imperiously for this crooked, humble town. It looks a grim place of no light and of constant worry and threat from the mountain that looms behind it. The buildings are dark and cats and other creatures scamper across wooden boards, and across makeshift roofs. People stare uncannily at us, the only visitors in a while, clearly. Then they retreat back into their box - like homes, unreadable expressions on their faces.

As we slow to a halt in front of a barrier, a guard approaches us.

"Who are you, and what business do you have in Laketown?" He asks.

"I am Legolas, son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. I am here on private matters." Legolas replies.

"I cannot let you past, my lord, unless you state your purpose here."

"We are here to find escaped prisoners from the king's jail." Legolas says.

I can see the sudden alertness of the guard, and he raises his eyebrows. "Very well. But, you are Elves. Who is this human girl with you?"

Legolas speaks for me. "This is another prisoner. She is leading us to the escapees."

The man nods reluctantly. "You may enter."

The barrier swings up, and we drift through. Tauriel moors the boat and we step ashore.

"We must ask people if they have seen them. I can imagine a band of dwarves and a hobbit cannot be too difficult to spot."

"Should we split up?" Tauriel suggests. "I will take the prisoner."

A doubtful look crosses his face. "Are you sure?"

She nods, grinning nastily at me. "Perhaps we can have a heart to heart. She can tell me where those dwarves are."

For some reason, the words "heart to heart" coming from a trained captain of the guard don't sound too jolly.

But, I am ready for this. I just have to play it right.

I put on a fake smile. "Of course. I'd be more than happy to have a conversation with you...heart to heart."

 **A/N**

 **Thanks for reading! so sorry for the slow updates, been quite busy with study, but I will make sure the next few are up on time.**

 **Hope you enjoyed, we're moving onto Laketown now! Next POV is Thorin's...what could have happened at the end of hid last chapter!? I guess you'll have to find out, stay tuned :)**


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Two: Thorin

Someone is calling my name as I plunge into darkness.

Not frantically, but assuredly, as if they know that I will come to them.

" _Thorin_ …"

I reach out.

Suddenly, the light surrounds me. I am perched not on the edge of a parapet, but a precipice overlooking a vast lake.

Water stretches out far and wide beneath me, churning ominously, and storm clouds begin to gather.

It's as if I can almost feel the wind on my face, like a caress.

" _Thorin_ …"

The voice is in my ear but I cannot turn. My head and neck are frozen in place.

I can feel the prescence of a being, of one who towers over all the rest, constantly searching for something, but the voice overshadows it. It is omnipresent, surrounding, as if it is coming from all directions - I strain to hear -

" _I know where you are...and I know where you are heading…"_

Exerting as much force as possible, I struggle to resist the icy grip on my neck.

".. _.I know what you came for and I know how you will attempt to get it…."_

The glacial fingers only press further into my skin, so much that I can feel the cold seeping into me, making me numb.

"... _and you will only fail…"_

With one last try, I throw myself back against the grip of the fingers and feel them crack and break, and I am lighter -

I am free, open-

Without the ice and without the smoke -

Without the voice -

Then ice slams into my face and sends me tumbling into the light -

My eyes shoot open, finding myself on the same pebble beach as before.

Immediately I seek out Kili, his shivering form drawn out over the stones, hand pressing into his leg. It is soaked with blood.

Ignoring the dizziness in my head, I force myself to my feet, barely knowing what I'm doing.

I stagger towards Kili, ignoring all the other dwarves questions -

"Thorin!"

Dwalin turns me to face him. He has a wild look in his eyes.

"What just happened?"

I shake my head, my voice coming out in a whisper. "It is nothing."

Dwalin scoffs. "The only person you're cheating is yourself, Thorin, by lying -"

"Kili." I cut across Dwalin's voice, eyeing the wound from the arrow.

Kili looks up at me, wincing. "I'll be alright." But judging by the hoarse, wheezing sound of his voice, he is not well.

I look at Gloin. "Bandange him up. Five minutes is all we have."

As Gloin begins to work on Kili's leg, I attempt to relieve the pressure in my head, pinching the bridge of my noise, and focusing on the rushing water of the river.

I should know better than to take the visions seriously by now. No one has ever come looking for me, nothing at all has happened -

Or has it?

I think back to just a few moments ago, when we were fleeing from an Orc attack. I know that they were there for my head.

But they must have been sent by someone.

An Orc, most likely, but from what I have learnt of hierarchy, there is almost always someone above the inferior beasts.

Someone who doesn't have to do the dirty work.

Someone who can manipulate, lie and pull strings.

"It was another vision." Balin says suddenly from beside me. I say nothing, just stare out onto the grey landscape, the smell of water and damp fresh in the air.

"Always, I have trusted you to be honest." Balin turns to me. "But you will not explain this to me?"

"This is more complicated than you would think." Comes my measured answer.

"This is much bigger than just you. This is all of our lives at stake -"

"I thought I made that clear when you signed the contract."

"- because someone is getting into your mind, Thorin! Ever since you were hit with that - that…." the snow haired dwarf spits out the words, " _spike_ , you haven't been yourself. The other dwarves see it too."

"They certainly don't say as much."

"They are afraid for you, Thorin."

I sigh. "This has been the first one in a while. I'm confident it won't happen again."

Balin's face takes on an incredulous look. "But what if it does?"

To this, I can say nothing.

Because it's been on my mind, too.

Gwendolyn told me of her theory, that someone was spying through my visions, and my shoulder would begin to get better once they stopped. But every step we make towards the mountain, my shoulder pains me more and more. Recent events may have distracted me from the aching, but I feel it now, sharp pangs of pain every so often.

 _She would know what to do…_

I think of her with a pang of sadness, which is quickly replaced by anger.

There is no forgiveness. Not for what she did.

I close my eyes, and take a deep breath.

 _There is no forgiveness._

I repeat the words in my mind…

... trying to make myself believe them.

A while later, we find the river again after trawling through the forest. As I look toward the horizon, I can see where it opens out onto the lake.

We meet a Man there, who Balin manages to persuade to take us across to Laketown in his barge. I hesitate to trust him, but soon it becomes apparent that he isn't trying to drown us, only make sarcastic replies to everyone's questions.

The mist hangs over the water, curling menacingly, so thick at first that I can't see anything beyond it, not unless I squint. As we begin to near the town, the fog begins to thin, revealing to us the destitute place that is Esgaroth.

I remember Dale, in its prime, being the centre of all negotiations and trade. I remember the brightly painted walls and the heavily decorated stalls, vending goods homemade and transported from lands afar.

Next to it, Esgaroth seems like an unworthy sucessor, a place of poverty and misfortune.

Two places, both so different, but both ill - fated.

 _But it is here that we must make our home for the next few nights,_ I think to myself.

After hiding in the barrels, amongst the stinking fish, and then running to the bargeman's house and taking refuge there, I feel exhaustion creep up on me, for not having slept in days.

 _You will sleep when your home is claimed_ , I hear the voice saying. _Struggle on, or it will all be for nought._ Indeed, all the wondering and the waiting, the sleepless nights and days, would all go to waste. I know I must push on, and inspire motivation in my Company, but how am I to do that when I can barely feel it myself?

To make matters worse, Kili begins to grow more and more sick as time passes.

His heart will break when I tell him, but he will not be able to come with us to the mountain. There is no way I could drag one of my own kin on a quest that would surely kill him. I told my sister that I would bring her sons back to her, and I must.

I would not lead him to his own death.

In the middle of the night I find myself sitting up from my bedroll, unable to sleep, sweating and shaking. I can't stay dormant any longer. I go outside to get fresh air, not minding the cold, and walk on the wooden boards, only to have my foot collide with something hard.

I look down and there lies, to my shock, a read head Elf I recognise as one of the ones who captured us. Her eyes are closed and she appears to be unconscious, a metal pole lying next to her head. But that is not what gets my attention.

In the distance, I see a figure darting off into the dark, their outline only partially visible in the dark.

Sudden footsteps behind make me jump, only to realise it is the bargeman, Bard. He presses his fingers to his lips.

"Hush," he whispers, drawing an arrow from his bow towards the direction of the attacker.

The figure is coming closer, their head down and cloak hood up. As they approach, Bard shoots the arrow.

It misses.

In the pale moonlight, the hood slips and the face is revealed.

" _No_." I whisper, dumbstruck, unable to move.

It is her, glowing in the light of the moon, her features illuminated.

It is her.

 **A/N**

 **Hope you enjoyed Ch 22! I had to do a bit of a time skip/summary for the bit where they enter Laketown, because I want to move the story along. We're nearing the climax! (sort of).**

 **Big thanks to the people who have favourited/followed - it's great to have you here! As always, feedback is most welcome. Feel free to review or message me with any questions you might have, I'd love to hear from you.**

 **Stay tuned :)**


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

It's getting late.

As we walk past, faces devoid of health and hope retreat into the darkness, and shutters slam shut. Echoing footsteps recede into the houses, until the only people outside are us and the lonely night watchman. His eyes watch us as we go, telling a tale of suspicion and struggle, which seems to be the muse of this town. The clouds swarm in front of the pale, full moon for now, setting the scene for escape.

 _It's getting late,_ I tell myself.

 _You have to act now_.

But everywhere is deserted. There are plenty of exit routes but not enough diversion to distract her.

Whistling pierces the air. It's her, haunting and soft, a tune age old and out of place.

It sparks a memory, within the furthest reaches of my mind. I would be in bed, peering through the crack between the curtain and my window, where I would look out at the night sky from underneath the covers. My father would have gone out hunting at this hour, but my mother would be washing up or writing, whistling a tune as she did, over and over.

And in the hours before sleep, where dark thoughts entered my vivid, childlike imagination, she would come in, with on my bed where my head lay on the pillow, and just her prescence was enough to make me drift off. She was the only thing I needed, her and father.

Tauriel's whistling strikes a thought in me. They would not want me to suffer like this. Not when they had worked so hard for me to have a good life. And spending the rest of my life a slave to the king of Mirkwood was the last thing they wanted.

There is only one thing I have to do.

I have already seen the pole steps away from where it is, but, when her head is turned, silent, swiftly, I grip it and raise it over her head.

"I'm sorry, Tauriel." I whisper.

She barely gets an exclamation out before I hit her and she slumps to the floor, unconscious. I know I will feel terrible about this later, but I had to do it to get free.

I withdraw into the shadows, but before I can get anywhere, I hear the unmistakable twang of an arrow being shot and dodge on instinct. It barely misses my ear.

I turn to try and see my attacker, the light of the moon blinding me from spotting them.

Then, something hard hits me and I know no more.

When I open my eyes my head is throbbing in pain, and my hand goes out instinctively to feel it. I pat around and feel a small bump on the side. I groan and lie back, blinking hard. I'm lying on a wooden floor and a lamp sits on the table next to me, the only light in the room. A man's face appears in the corner of my vision.

Suddenly, without warning, I leap to my feet, drawing my blade.

That's when I see them.

All lined out before me, every single one.

But my eyes fall on him.

A second moves past.

Only a second, but in that small window of time, I see him, his eyes, his face, his hair - not for who he truly is, but for the image I have "kept in my head, that has sprung to mind every time his name has been mentioned.

The image of him that made me feel emotions that I haven't felt in a long time for anyone.

But it's just an image.

Underneath, his mind is a web of pathways all leading to different thoughts. And one of the biggest chambers is his pride, and then, adjoining it, his prejudice.

And that, I cannot forget.

A second moves past.

And I know, once it's gone, that things can never be the same be the same between us.

All the dwarves begin to quietly file out, but I barely notice.

I am seething with anger.

"I barely believe," I begin in a shaky voice, "that after everything, all that I've done for you, that you would hate me. My parents brought me up to be kind, and I've helped you, I've given you my aid. I've welcomed you into my home. This is how you repay me? By treating me like I am nothing more than filth?"

A muscle in his jaw jumps. "I cannot disregard the wishes of my forefathers, and myself. Your kind betrayed us when we needed them most. That is an unforgivable offence."

I take a step forward, glaring. "I will not apologise for my heritage, and neither will any other of my "kind." You were ready to leave me to rot in Thranduil's prisons, forever. You walked away. To me, that is an unforgivable offence."

Then, I see a flicker off something in his cold eyes. Almost like fire, for a split second.

And then it goes.

Like he has finally shut himself off from me.

I look into his eyes, searching for remorse. But all I can see are his irises, blue and blank.

I turn away, before he can see my own eyes cloud with tears.

I enter the kitchen, where I find the man from before, cleaning his bow and arrow.

He looks up as soon as I come in.

"That elleth out there had a hefty head injury. Wouldn't want anyone finding out about that, would we?"

I instantly feel guilty. "I had to escape."

Then I realise I've said too much - what if he sells me out to Thranduil for money? I've see the living conditions, and even though this man's home is not nearly as impoverished as the others, it seems like the extra money could be used.

He raises a dark eyebrow. "I won't tell." He promises.

I don't say anything.

"You must be a prisoner from king Thranduil's." He says, cleaning grime from an arrowhead. I glance curiously at his weapons, his bow and arrows. Each one is in good condition, heavily polished, and the bow is taught, and made of strong wood.

I gesture to them. "You use these much?"

He looks at me, nodding. "When I can. I noticed you have your own weapons. Why did you not use them on the elf woman? They would have proved more effective than a metal pole."

"It wasn't my intention to kill her. Just knock her out." I reply, running my finger over the dented wood of the table.

"And that you did. But she will wake in less than an hour."

I shrug. "I'll be long gone by then."

The man shakes his head. "I wouldn't advise that. All sorts could happen to you around here at night."

"Nothing I'm not prepared for."

"If you wish to leave, don't let me stop you. But you would be better off staying here, for the night."

"It would be easier to use the cover of night…" I ponder.

The man shrugs. "Maybe, but that is when the guard patrol is on double."

I frown. "I didn't see any on my way in."

"But you saw people. And the people are the Master's guards." The man says.

I tilt my head. "You aren't one?"

He smiles, a little sadly. "I am the enemy of the master."

"I imagine that would put you in a difficult position."

"I do my best." He smiles again.

There was silence for a while, until he speaks up again.

"As I said, I will not keep you. If you have a place to go to, then go. But, due to a sudden turn of events, my home has become a refuge, and it is there for you, if you need it. There is a bedroom on the left."

I raise my eyebrows. "Isn't it packed full of dwarves?."

He scoffs. "I will lose an arrow before I let a dwarf sleep in my bed."

"But where will you be?" I say, leaning against the counter. "The night is drawing in."

He gives me that same pained smile as before. "The night is the same as the day, sometimes, and you have to lose a little sleep. I don't mind, only when my daughters wait up for me. You will meet them, most likely. Unless you prefer the company of dwarves."

I shiver. "I think I'll pass on that one, for now. I would love to meet your daughters." A thought occurs to me. "But I don't know your name."

"Bard." He says, getting up, putting on his quiver. "I know your name. The small creature told me."

I assume that the "small creature" is Bilbo, and nod.

"Thank you."

I find Tauriel gone the next morning.

She must have gone to find Legolas, which means they'll still be looking for me. Which means I must get out of here as soon as possible.

But for the rest of the day, the dwarves don't leave Bard's house. I stay out of the way mostly, helping his daughters cook and do the chores, but occasionally I will overhear snippets of conversation coming from the next room.

"... _must find good weapons soon. We cannot take any chances."_ _"Can we trust the bargeman?"_ _"...I will have to leave….behind…"_

I try not to pay attention to any of it, but even I know that their situation is dire. As it appears, Durin's Day is nearing, and they must get to the mountain in time for the door to appear. But they can't do that without weapons, and a way out of here, whilst on the run from Orcs and Elves.

 _You have to help them…._

I sigh. Where did it get me last time? Sentenced to a life in Thranduil's kingdom. I managed to escape, but what will happen to me if I choose to go with them and help them?

 _You must find the good in your heart…_

But I don't even know it it's there, anymore.

I ran away from imprisonment. I knocked out Tauriel. I accepted Bard's refuge to help only myself.

Everything I do is to help me survive, and I spend every day only just getting by, whilst others around me suffer.

It's not what they would have wanted.

But would they have wanted me to help a proud, arrogant, king?

Someone who abandoned me?

I lean back against the wall, reveling in the break from the chaotic clamoring of the restless dwarves.

And my mind grows quiet, leaving me with only the loudest thoughts.

The thoughts that I am too scared to have, they resurface, rearing their ugly heads.

I don't know what to do, anymore.

I close my eyes shut, trying to stop the tears, trying to stop the feeling of hopelessness threatening to overwhelm me.

I'm lost.

When night falls, I slip out of the door, and tiptoe to the door and slip outside. Quiet reigns now, dark and solemn.

At first, the boardwalk looks empty.

And then, I see Thorin, leaning against the wooden railing and staring out at the night sky.

I feel the tears threatening my eyes, and I turn away. I've been trying to avoid him, but it was only going to be a matter of time before our paths crossed again.

I turn around to go back inside. If I go quietly, he won't notice -

"I know you're there." He says, his voice deeper than usual.

I jump at the sound of it, and turn around slowly. He doesn't look at me, or say anything. I grip the wooden railing for support, as though I could fall over at any moment.

"I want to show you something." Thorin says, still not looking at me. He turns his back and gestures for me to follow him.

We walk along a couple of dark, crooked passageways, that creak sinisterly under our feet. It seems to go on forever, until he abruptly turns a corner and stops.

I let out an audible sigh, my breath misting around me in the cold dark, as I turn to face the railing. The lake is spread out in front of me, like a liquid carpet that seems to go on for miles and miles. The sky is velvet and the lake is silk, a soft, flowing silk. Stars pinprick the sky, tiny yet majestic. I slowly tilt my head back, and the sky envelops me in its everlong hold, for infinity. I could stare at it forever, and be wrapped up. I could forget the cold. I could fly endlessly and be free from the secrets and the troubles. From life.

I lower my head back to the lake and close my eyes, taking deep breaths. In this moment I can be calm and I can leave everything behind. I wish there could be more moments like this.

When I hear someone shift beside me I become a little startled. I'd completely forgotten about Thorin's presence.

I lean forward on the wooden railing and gaze down into the depths of the lake, which seem so dark, darker than ink, then I look at the bright stars reflected in the water.

"There used to be nights like this. At home, we would sit by the edge of a small brook, and watch the stars in the sky. And sometimes the moon would come out, too, to join them. It was beautiful." I say quietly, without thinking. "It probably is beautiful, still, by that brook. But I haven't been there since I was younger. And I know I won't return."

"Why?" I hear Thorin say.

I breathe slowly. "That was where my family died, in the middle of the night. It was nothing like this one. It was cloudy and filled with fear. I should've known that they were going to come soon enough, the Orcs. They would find us."

I look at him, heart thumping. "What I didn't tell you about that night, the night my parents died...they were murdered."

I can see the expression of shock in his blue eyes, but they will me to go on, to get through this. Taking a deep breath, I continue.

"I woke up that night, a few hours after I had gone to bed. They were all heavily asleep. We had been up late, all of us, just talking and telling stories. Then I heard footsteps outside, heavy ones on the ground. I didn't guess it was Orcs, but when they started talking in their foul tongue, I knew exactly what they were. I yelled, I shouted to my parents and my brother to wake up and get out. The Orcs heard and came bounding inside, but not before I hid up on the beams on the ceiling. I thought they were outside, my family. But when I looked at the Orcs going in through the door, they went into my parents bedroom, and I watched them being stabbed to death, right in front of me. I could've jumped down and landed on the threshold of their bedroom. But they didn't even have time to scream before they were killed."

I can feel hot tears welling up in my eyes, but I continue. "Then they went into my brother's bedroom, but they didn't find him there. He had already gone and hidden, out in the forest. When the Orcs went away, I...I don't know what happened to him. I presumed him dead.

They tried to find me, but when they could not, they just trashed the place and left, almost as quickly as they came. That night I cried more than I have ever done in my life. I screamed, even though the Orcs may have heard me, but they didn't come back. In the early hours of the dawn I buried their bodies together in the front of that garden. I left the bed sheets on the beds, bloodstained, took what I needed and left that place. What was once a home was now a murder scene, and I didn't want to be there. Even if it meant leaving my family, who were all dead."

Tears are flowing freely now, dripping off my clothes and onto the wood.

"But what upsets me most about that night was how I could do nothing. All I could do was sit and watch them die. Sometimes I wish I had jumped down and died with them. Then I would not feel the pain I do now."

There is silence for so long that I think Thorin has left me to stare at the lake by myself and cry. But then I hear his gentle voice, and look into his piercing blue eyes.

"Don't ever think that." He says softly.

"Why?"

The waves of sorrow just keep coming and coming.

I feel like I'm drowning, drowning in my own sadness, in my own mistfortune. I feel suffocated, like I'm fighting for breath, fighting to live alongside my past, the horror that has haunted my mind for too long. I need to come up for air now, but I'm sinking.

But then, out of the blue dark, comes a voice.

"Because if you do..I...I'll never live with myself."

Through misty eyes I turn to look at him, eyes searching his, begging for answers.

"But I thought...you hated me."

He shakes his head. "I could never hate you. I was blinded by prejudice, what I had grown up knowing. Turns out, you were completely right. I can't see past my own pride. These past hours…I have thought of nothing else. Now I see that I was wrong. Please forgive me." He pleads, eyes sorrowful, begging for my forgiveness.

I can't forsake him now - it is not his fault that's what he was taught to believe. I gaze at him, my voice barely above a whisper. "I do." I say, through the oncoming tears.

"I can't see you like this. Please, don't cry." He gazed at me with such concern it only makes me cry harder, because I know that we can never be together.

And suddenly, I know that's what I want. All those days, watching him sweat and struggle through nightmares and sleep, I wanted him to pull through so badly. When he went, I was so worried I felt sick, and I kept thinking something was going to happen to him. Even in Mirkwood, when he glared at me with such fury and his eyes hurt with betrayal, I was sad because I thought he wouldn't accept who I was.

But now it cannot be. It can never be.

"Please, Gwendolyn." Thorin begs, ever so gently and softly. He reaches for my hand and takes it, pressing it between his two warm ones.

I don't know what I'm going to do anymore. I don't have a plan anymore. I don't have anyone, and even if I want Thorin, it can't happen. I used to supress my worries, my past, my deepest and darkest thoughts. But now they have resurfaced and I can't take it.

I don't want to do this anymore.

I can't.

"Gwen…"

And suddenly, it's just that one word that pulls me up through the waters of mourning, and up, up into air, only to be wrapped in warm arms. Those arms are real now. Thorin pulls me into his chest, and my tears stain his tunic. His strokes my hair, fingers running through it.

"Hush…" he says, holding me as I sob, his hand circling over my back.

I feel so safe and warm, but it won't ever be like this again. He'll keep holding me and then let me go forever and things will just go back to how they were. I tell myself it will be enough. It will be enough. I can use this memory to help me live now. I try to capture the feeling.

Then I pull back, wiping my eyes, smiling weakly at him.

"Thank you."

I need to show him that I'm not weak, even though I'm weaker than I've ever been.

 **A/N**

 **So sorry for the delay! google docs wasn't loading and I spent the week panicking because I thought I had lost it all...but thankfully things worked out. I worked hard on this chapter because it's so important to me, especially the last part. I really hope you enjoyed it.**

 **stay tuned :)**


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four: Thorin

The tears were running down her face, glistening like raindrops in the moonlight.

And I don't know what it was, but something inside me wanted to make them go away.

I should have been ignoring her, turning her away. I should have never had anything to do with her.

But her words, her words were so strong, telling me I was wrong for abandoning her, for treating her the way I did. I could only see her eyes, looking at me, begging me, and guilt seeped into my soul and set me straight.

I can't forget the way I feel around her.

Still, after I left the cabin.

Magnified, electrified, the force of a thousand storms, whenever she comes near. I want to run away, far away and shelter, but at the same time I want to weather the storm and see it through.

That night, after she told me of the horrors of her past, I couldn't sleep. Not only because of the terrible things that had happened to her, but also because I still felt her warmth in my arms when I held her, and as I lay there on the cold floor of Bard's house, I was suddenly aware that she was not with me.

And I don't know what that's supposed to mean.

The next morning, the realities of what we were yet to face came back to bite me.

The first thing I see is Kili, shivering and obviously down with a fever, and I know I am going to have to break it to him later on that day.

Dwalin sends me heavily signalled looks as we were getting ready, but I refuse to acknowledge them.

The next thing are the weapons. I don't know what I was expecting, but it is definitely not what we got. The others agree that we would have to raid the armoury to get new ones, and so, one by one, we sneak out of Bard's house, finally feeling fresh air hit us for the first time in a few days.

I should have seen it coming. Kili is not well enough to handle the pile of weapons he is given, and tumbled down the stairs, drawing attention to us all, and alerting the guards.

And, before we know where we are, we are surrounded by guards and townsfolk, staring at us accusingly, as the snow falls, and I have to reason with the Master.

It isn't the first time, in fact, it is one of many, but somehow it feels different.

My words carry the weight of promise I know, deep down, I may not be able to pay, and the burden of the quest and prophecy.

But I know it is for the greater good that I must make them believe me.

And they do. Their faces light up at the prospect of riches and prosperity.

And it makes me wonder how far they would go to get it.

I tell Kili the next morning. I can't bear to see him suffer like this.

He tries to resist, saying that he's strong enough, even though we both know that he isn't. I promise him that he will come when we reclaim the mountain, and not a moment too late.

But when Fili tells me he wants to stay, I can't help seeing all our chances crum let before my eyes. Two of our strongest and fittest, gone, and Bofur hasn't even shown up yet.

But in the end, it doesn't matter who goes. We have to leave, no matter what.

Just as we are about to push off, I see Gwen racing towards the boat, yelling for it to stop.

She's breathing lightly as she reaches the shore, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm coming with you."

"No." I say, bluntly. "You're not part of the company, so if any harm comes to you…"

"Then it won't be your fault." She says seriously. "I know. But whether you'll admit it, or not, your numbers are down, and you need me. I will never claim to be equal to their ability, but where I can help, I will."

I sigh, and help her onto the boat. She smiles wryly at me.

"I promise I won't be a burden."

I grit my teeth, and stare out at the mist that lingers over the surface of the lake as we push off. "That's not what I'm worried about.".

The hills around me feel so familiar.

Every now and again as we are walking, I see certain parts that catch my eye, sparking memories of the past, and maybe one day I will go back to them, but for now, I must carry on, and reach my home.

"Thorin." I hear Bilbo's voice behind me.

"What is it?" I turn around.

"We were meant to wait here for Gandalf." He replies.

"He is not here. We must carry on, Master Baggins, or we will lose the chance."

I can feel his frown upon my back, so I sigh and turn back around, setting my jaw, and carrying on. Perhaps not waiting for Gandalf will prove to be an unwise decision. Perhaps not.

A little later on, Gwendolyn catches up to me, and asks me about my condition.

"Have you been taking that medicine I gave you?"

"Yes." I lie.

Then, she looks directly at me, and I can tell she knows the truth, before I can conceal it. She stops dead in her tracks.

"You had another vision, didn't you?"

I stay silent, looking down uncomfortably.

"Didn't you?"

I sigh heavily, and nod. We continue walking.

"Where was it?"

"When we were escaping from the Mirkwood prison, as soon as we were out of sight of the Orcs, that's when I had it. It wasn't particularly bad."

I hear her let out a shaky breath. "It doesn't have to be bad. The problem is, you're still having them. How's your shoulder?"

"It no longer pains me."

Her face darkens. "That's not good. Your visions were meant to stop ages ago, I don't understand it. And no more have happened since?"

I shake my head.

"What exactly occurred in this recent vision?"

I think back to the moment. "I was standing on the edge of a cliff, I think...not a lot happened, but I felt this icy force pressing against me, harder and harder. And the voice was there again, too, telling me it knew what I was doing and that I would fail."

"What was below the cliff?"

"A lake." I reply. "I don't understand how that is relavent."

She ignores my comment. "What was the lake like?"

"It was similar to the one on which lies the town."

Gwendolyn face falls.

"We are in more danger than I thought, if that is the case."

After a tough climb up the mammoth stone sculpture of one of my kin that guards the doors to Erebor, we finally arrive on the ledge where the door is supposed to be. The sun, by that time, is setting, leaving stunning colours painted across the sky. Pinks, blues, oranges, reds. It looks as if a dragon's tongue has licked across the sky. Just after I think about that metaphor, I want to kick myself.

Despite the growing cloud of worry creeping up on me, I realise that I'm finally here. After so many years of being apart from my home, of planning this trip, after months of journeying through barren lands and unfamiliar hills, we are here, about to cross into the home that was once ours. That has been ours all along. I only wish Kili and Fili were here to feel this ride of emotions, my kin. Soon we will be inside, and I will finally lay my eyes on all the gold, the jewels, especially one white, dining as bright as the sun. The one that comes above all the rest. There is nothing I want more than to lay my hands on it, there is nothing more beautiful than it…

 _Is there?_

"This is it." I say, swallowing. "The last light of Durin's day. Our chance."

I gesture to Oin to look on the door to find the keyhole. He may not have the best hearing but his expert eyes will surely pick up what ours cannot. I am full of hope that this will work.

The last rays of sunshine beam through the clouds in a direct pathway to the ancient stone, moss covered door, lighting it up. But I do not see a keyhole.

"Keep looking." I urge. A couple of the other dwarves rush to assist Oin in looking for the sacred keyhole that leads to the home of our fathers. We must find it. We must. If we do not, I cannot live with myself. I don't know what I'll do. I can't go back to Laketown and face the crowds and that wretched Master, who I'm sure is only helping me to justify his own greed of the gold and riches that are sorely ours. I do not want to give it to those townsfolk, least of all Bard. He's up to something - he doesn't trust me to pay them back for their hospitality, and obviously thinks things aren't going to work out and everything will end in doom and gloom.

I've never trusted the weakness of mind in men, the inability to make decisions, to commit themselves to things, always ready to give into desire and want. I will prove myself better, I will prove my race better than Men.

 _But what about Gwen? Isn't she a daughter of Men?_ _She is different to them...she is better…_ _Is she? After all, the blood of men who have given in and strayed to evil runs in her veins...not to_ _mention, Elvish blood…_ _She hardly has any Elvish blood. Her grandmother was an Elf._ _It doesn't change anything - she's still Elvish scum and you know_ it.

 _She is not scum!_

 _Don't get too close to her. She could easily betray you. Her past has made her mind unruly and her emotions unsteady. She cannot be trusted_.

 _Of course she can. She's just upset, that's all.._ _That's a_ _lie_.

 _No._ _Yes!_

Supressing the urge to groan out loud, I focus on the door.

"Have you found anything?"

"I'm afraid not…"

"Quick, the light is leaving us! We don't have much time!" I hear my own voice yell, shaky with panic. I feel a hand on my shoulder, Gwen's. But I can hardly feel it through the thick blanket of urgency and the dread I feel seeping into my mind like water.

The dwarves look harder, but still it appears to be fruitless.

And suddenly, the last light is snatched away, along with our last hope.

I cover my face with my hands.

That was it, that was our chance.

I don't understand. That was what the runes said to do, wasn't it? To look upon the door as the last light of Durin's Day beamed upon it and the keyhole would be revealed to us. It was meant to be so simple. I should've known an instruction so simple would crumble so easily.

It was never meant to happen.

"Come on, Thorin! You can't give up now - you've come so far, and put so much into this, there must be another way!" Pleads Bilbo desperately.

I wish I could believe him. I really do. But there's nothing left now. I know very well it can't be opened by force. If it could, I'd have had a dozen armies rallied at the door to push it open, but it is protected by a greater force.

Gwen approaches me, staring into my eyes. "Bilbo's right. You can't give up yet."

"Forget it. It was never meant to be." I say wistfully, looking at the door, unopened, before turning my back on my last hope in this world.

We're halfway back down the stone steps of the statue when I am blinded by the moonlight piercing the dark clouds. And all of a sudden, I realise.

The last light.

It didn't mean the sun, it meant the moon.

I'm back up the steps before anyone else can say anything, like a shot. I will not miss this chance for the world. A new fire rekindles inside me. No, not a fire, a violent blaze.

Just as the key is about to slip off the edge of the rock, I stop it with my foot. Bilbo stands there, clutching the parchment, staring at me. I pick up the key, and looking at the door which is shrouded in a holy white light, I see a dark patch which I know must be the keyhole. Hardly able to contain my emotions, I gently push the key into the hole and press against the door with my weight. And when it shifts, so does my whole world.

Tears spring to my eyes as I take the first step inside the lost kingdom of Erebor, my birthplace, my home. Even if it is, at the moment, just one dark passage, I know what lies beyond it. I know the majestic, divine halls, that so much work went into making and carving lie beyond. I know the great hall of treasure lies beyond. I know my old chambers, my nursery as a child, the throne room, the furnaces...they are all here, and finally in front of me. I know these stone walls, I remember the rooms filled with liquid golden light.

I don't know how to explain how it feels to finally return to a home you once knew but had lost long ago, but the feeling...is overwhelmingly nostalgic, emotional, amazing.

I'm here. I'm home.

 **A/N**

 **Thanks for reading! This chapter has been quite difficult to write trying to keep Thorin in character is harder than it seems. Anyway! hope you enjoyed it, stay tuned for the next one! :)**


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

I seem to forget everything when I see the look on his face as he takes the first step into the Mountain. Everything else fades away.

The world stops turning. All I can see was is face, full of wonder and pride and joy, and that is all I needed to know he is happy, and that means a lot to me, even if it is only for a couple of minutes, I know what it means to treasure those moments and make them last. Those moments are rare for me and I expect for him, too.

But no matter how golden they are, they can't last. The sun will not always shine, because the moon is always there, and the black cover of night is always waiting to descend.

Thorin and the company waste no time in getting to work, setting off to various rooms and completing tasks he gives them. I do my best to help, but I can't help but feel I may be unwanted - every now and then, the dwarves will cast me off looks, like I shouldn't be there, like it isn't my place.

I look at Thorin, taking leadership as if he was born to do it - and he was - but something seems wrong. In his eyes, I detect flickers of doubt every now and then, when he looks at certain members of the Company, or even me. Something is wrong, but he won't tell me.

I can't tell, but night must already be well under way, and I can't help but miss the sweet, cool air against my skin as I stand against the wind - here, deep underground, there is only frigid, cold air, and the musty smell of a place long abandoned. But if Thorin calls it home, then I respect that.

I sense a change in him as he walks through the hallowed halls, a sense of purpose in him that he has always had, but is more prominent, and more unforgiving.

He is willing to let Bilbo into the dragon's den, quite literally. Bilbo, the kind-hearted, courageous Hobbit, will have to risk his life...and it is only for a jewel that Thorin seems to revere so much.

It's a suicide mission, and I'm not just about to let Bilbo walk right into it.

"Thorin, wait." I call as he walks down one of the cold, dark halls.

He stops. "What is it?"

"Don't you think this whole thing is a bit... unnecessary? You know, with the Arkenstone?" I say, as gently as I can. I know how much this matter means to him, how much the gem means to him. It's been referred to as the "heart of the mountain," and was very precious to his grandfather, and to him, but I will not stand for the useless sacrifice of the Hobbit because of it.

He frowns. "Master Baggins is our burglar, appointed by Gandalf. It was his quest from the start, and he must fulfill it."

I begin to feel a bit vexed by his mild attitude about this whole thing. "What about the dragon? What will you do if it gets out, and Bilbo gets hurt?"

Thorin sighs. "We know we will have to face the dragon at some point, that was always going to happen, whether we wanted it to or not."

I raise my eyebrows. "Yes, but what of Bilbo?"

"He read a contract. He knew what he was signing up for." Thorin says, matter of factly.

"And what was that?" I snap. "Did he really know the implications?"

"Of course," Thorin pinches the bridge of his nose. "He knows he might not survive this quest. It's a given for anyone in my Company. They all know." Thorin presses, and turns away to walk off. "Excuse me."

I step forward, catching his arm with my hand.

"This isn't like you, Thorin. To disregard the threat of death to your friends. To shrug it off and blame it all on some contract that was signed. The Thorin I know is devoted to his friends. He cares about them. Ardently. And not about some stupid white gemstone, that you now seem to covet above than anything else!"

He whips around, glaring. "You don't understand!" He bellows. The sudden raise of his voice makes me flinch. My heart begins to pound, and somewhere in my mind a voice says that I've gone too far, but I'm too angry to care.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, fighting to stay calm.

"You don't understand how long I've been fighting, how long I've been waiting for this." Thorin replies, irritably.

"Of course I do." I answer in disbelief. "I know how you're feeling."

"Perhaps you don't." His voice is unusually cold all of a sudden. "Perhaps all you want to do is bring down this quest!"

I recoil in shock. "How could you say that? I've done nothing but support you!"

"Is that so?" He sneers. "Were you supporting me when you could have helped us escape that prison?"

"I was _trying_ to, before I got captured and sentenced to a life serving Thranduil. I don't seem to remember _you_ being there for me then?"

Anger flashes in his eyes. "I knew it! I knew you would never let it go. That deep down, you always blamed me for what happened to _you_ , for what _you_ brought upon yourself! You assume too much about me." He hisses. "You hardly know me at all. You don't know my past, and what I've faced, who I've had to fight and who I've had to protect. This quest will go along whether you want it to or not. It is written in the prophecies, that we will take back this mountain and the wealth that comes with it, from that...that…" he spits out the word, "worm!"

"Thorin -"

He turns his head, jaw clenching. "You should've stayed in Laketown. You would have been of more use there."

I feel tears come to my eyes. "Is that what you really think?"

When he doesn't say anything, I nod. "I get it. You don't want me around. That night by the lake was just you pretending to care, then, when all you really think is that I'm a lightweight. I don't need your pretense. I don't want it. Right now, I only want the truth, and if that's what it is, then I won't bother you anymore with my incompetent ideals. You clearly don't want me here, so I'll go."

I say.

I can't look at him, all I can do is wipe the tears from my eyes and turn and walk away, leaving behind someone who is a mystery to me.

Tears stinging my eyes, I make my way slowly back down the stone carving, thinking of the events that have just spiralled out of control.

But it he is willing to disregard Bilbo, who has helped him again and again and shown his devotion, and throw him into the beasts lair, then I will not be a part of it.

In his arms, I felt as if I could finally stop the pain. But if I want something genuine from him, I guess I'm just not going to get it. He's devoted to the mountain now. That's all he's going to be thinking about, his home, his wealth.

I was never important in his story. I was never going to be the one who saved him, even if he saved me. It was never going to happen. We are too different. We both live in different worlds, and know different hardships.

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. It is better this way.

 _It is._

 _The dragon sickness…_

I have heard of it before, if only vaguely, something that was more a myth than a truth.

A curse laid on gold, that sends anyone who is around it for too long into a possessive, jealous mentality - so that it is all they can think of, and they will never be fully complete without it.

 _That can't be it. It can't be affecting him…he hasn't even seen the gold yet..._

But the way he talked to Bilbo about getting the stone...it was almost possessive, like he really wanted it. It is a drastic change.

And I'm worried about just how changed he will become.

But I can't fix it, I can't do anything that will stop his heart from shrinking. If he doesn't care, there is no impression I can make on him.

The wind is an icy chill in my bones, and it stings my bare cheeks, showing no mercy, but I carry on walking, struggling against it. But it feels like a brick wall I'm pushing against, gusting and freezing, swirling like dry ice, magical but deadly. I wrap my arms around myself, pushing through it, teeth chattering.

That's when the snow starts.

Like a cold inferno, it blazes around me, thickening the air. Every breath I take is a mouthful of glacial air, and every moment I'm out here is a moment I get closer to not making it back to Laketown.

But as I turn around, I can't see the mountain. I can't see my hand in front of my face. All I can see is hurrying sheets of snow around me, a frozen downpour. I can hardly feel my legs anymore because they are numb with the cold, and I can't drag them through the snow - hell, I can hardly see the snow.

I don't know when I fell, or how long I'd been out there, but suddenly I couldn't feel ground beneath my feet. I can only feel air, flying past me, and my body feels detached from my mind, lying limply like a broken puppet. And suddenly, there is no more pure white.

There is just black.

 **A/N**

 **Dun dun dunnnn...**

 **I'm sorry (not sorry) for the argument between Thorin and Gwen, but they both have quite a way to go yet before they can really hit it off.**

 **I do apologise for the slow updates, I've had a lotttt of work recently and it has been slowing everything up, but now I have a break and you should be seeing some quicker updates!! so stay tuned :)**


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

I don't feel like facing anyone. I don't feel like facing the raging war in my mind. I need somewhere to escape and forget about it all. To forget the impending darkness threatening every aspect of my life.

I find myself on a balcony, and my thoughts drift like the wind back to Gwen.

I want to hate her. Mahal knows I have reason to.

 _You hate her._

I want to hate her for everything, for betraying us...for appearing weak, making me comfort her, making me look weak...for leaving, only because she does not agree with what has been set in stone for years.

 _You hate her._

She is not of my race. She is of the race of Men, weak men, and Elves.

 _You hate her._

I close my eyes, forcing it into my mind. It is easier to hate her. It makes more sense.

 _You hate her…_

I grip the railing, feeling a sudden gust of wind blow towards me, so harsh it almost knocked me off my feet.

Once it is gone, I try to stand, but something is not right.

Then the haziness begins to hit my mind...my head feels light, too light, and the ground sways beneath my feet -

And I can't think -

And all I can see is white.

The wind is back again..I know, because I can feel it on my face, I can hear it whispering things, the glacial cold of it making it hard to breathe, and all I can see is white…

I try to open my mouth, but my jaw is frozen in place, and I can only hear the whisperings that pervade the silence. They are not coherent, I cannot tell what they are saying…

Until a single voice comes through.

They all fall silent, slaves to the voice.

" _King Thorin…"_

The words sound to me like smooth, sweet honey, like sugar. King Thorin. King.

" _I sense anger in you...deep, unchallenged anger."_

It continues, and I know I should block it out, but it is all I can hear, surrounding me.

" _You have been betrayed...tested...but in the end…"_

And then the fingers appear at my neck. Icy against my skin. Unwavering cold, penetrating what little heat was there already.

"... _you will fail. And your line will fall."_

Fury leaps up inside me, but is quelled by the pressing of the fingers against my neck.

" _Soon, there will be no more Durin blood...for it will all be spent…and you will be left with nothing."_

My eyes stare fixedly into the blinding white, unable to move. Unable to feel anything anymore except the stinging cold of the fingers.

"... _not even the gold you hold so dear. You will have nothing_."

The fingers press further into my neck, and soon I can't breathe - my airways are trapped between the freezing digits -

I can't breathe -

"... _and I will come for you."_

Then, they are released.

I plunge into daylight, gasping for breath like a dying man.

It takes me a few moments to realise what just happened, and I find myself on the same balcony as before, but now snow is coming down heavily, decorating the landscape in white.

And then my eyes harden.

The voice is wrong..I will have everything, in the end. And I will prove it wrong.

I stand up, and face the oncoming sheets of white snow, uncaring of the cold anymore.

"You are wrong!" I yell into the storm, my voice echoing throughout the whole Mountain.

Because now the voice will know that I will stop at nothing to get what I want.

A surge of power rushes through me, and adrenaline surges through me. I feel it now, brighter than an a thousand fires. Pure, unadulterated power, and it's all mine. My birthright.

Suddenly I hear hurried footsteps entering the chamber that break me out of my powerful daydream. I sigh heavily.

"Thorin, we cannot find Miss Gwendolyn anywhere, we do not know where she is."

It is Fili, who returned earlier with a newly healed Kili and Bofur, who had apologized profusely at my feet for being absent, his eyes begging me for forgiveness.

At least, that was what it felt like.

Fili looks out of breath, like he has run all the way here, and concerned.

"Interesting." I muse at his countenance.

Fili frowns. "Sorry?"

"I'm surprised you haven't guessed it by now."

Fili shakes his head. "I don't know what you mean, uncle. She is not here, we need to find her."

"She has left, Fili. She left this morning, of her own accord." I wonder at his obtuseness, inspecting the rings on my hand. Soon I will have more than this.

Fili's eyes widen. "What? But a dreadful snowstorm began halfway through the morning! She would have been caught in it! What was she thinking?"

"Aye, what indeed." I mutter.

His eyes narrow. "You had an argument, didn't you? If it was about the Elves, I hope you know that-"

"It was not that, and whatever it was about, I will not tell you. You have not the right to know. Now, get out before I -"

Just then, a rumbling sound echoes throughout the hall. The ground vibrates with the force of it. It is a low, threatening sound.

I know that sound. The sound of an energy, that has long laid dormant in the depths, aching to rise up.

Once it stops, there are a few seconds of dearly silence, and I know that we have not a moment to lose.

"Uncle-" Fili begins.

"Get everyone together! We need to trap this dragon before it gets out!" I bellow at him. He nods shakily and scampers out of the hall.

I smirk as I watch him leave.

That dragon is not getting anywhere, not under my watch. And I can use their fear to get me what I want.

But in the corner of my mind, I know it is there, buried under a mountain of greed, is a small voice, weakened by desire, but it is still there, whispering through the cracks. It tells me I am making a big mistake.

Gwendolyn is in danger.

I push it away. She was foolish enough to go out in that blizzard herself, it's not my fault. She should've known. Whatever fate she gets, she deserves.

She has brought it upon herself.

I race down the stone steps, taking two at a time, filled with an energy that urges me on, further into the depths of my kingdom. Nothing shall stand in the way now, not even a dragon. It is a mere spanner in the works, nothing more.

And it's not just a dragon that lies at the bottom of that chamber. It's mountains and mountains of riches, and a single white gem, like an icy teardrop. The Arkenstone. A pulsating need courses through me, a desire so strong and wanting, aching for it. I need it. I need it right now, despite everything. I am drawn to it, like a moth to a flame - anyone whose eyes rest upon it should be awestruck by its majesty. .

I stumble down the steps, driven by blind need, and out onto a stone balcony overlooking a vast chamber.

My steps fall short as I gaze upon the sight before me, and the world seems to stop turning.

The room is glowing. On fire with a rich golden aura, flaming all around me. Within the fire that is gold lie emerald, amethyst, sapphire, ruby stones...gems...beauty beyond compare. They are visible within the flames, glinting like liquid desire.

It goes on for miles and miles, stretching out around me, no longer just a fire. Now it is an inferno, blazing around me uncontrollably like the compelling infatuation with all that is mine.

 _Mine_.

But there is something lacking...a gaping hole that needs to be filled. It was a long time ago, but I still remember what it looks like. White of the unclouded kind, snow white, with a beautiful surrounding glow. One gem that fits snugly in the palm of one's hand is the crowning jewel.

I seek it out desperately, wanting, needing to see it.

I don't know what's taken over me...but I don't want it to ever stop.

Just then a figure tumbles into the space before me. Bilbo.

"Thorin!" He exclaims, panting and red faced. "We need to get out of here now. The dragon, it's com-"

"Where is it?" I interject, cutting through his panicked words.

"Where is what?" Frowns Bilbo.

"Do you have the Arkenstone?" I say, slowly, trying to keep my anger abated, my voice gravelly and roughened with the effort.

Bilbo looks at me helplessly. "I'll explain later, but we need to get out now, Thorin, before it comes!"

He makes for the entrance I've just come from, but I block him with my sword, hardly knowing what I'm doing, but I know I need to do it.

His eyes travel up to mine in surprise. "Thorin, we need to go!"

I lift the sword and slowly point it at him, inching forward slowly, driving him backward. If it is him that stands between me and the Arkenstone, I don't care. I'll do anything to get it. I'll get rid of the burglar if I have to. If it is a price I must pay, I will willingly pay it.

His eyes widen in fear. "Thorin -"

I drive the sword closer, not caring anymore. My need is too strong.

"Do you have it?"

I ask again, but it is not a question, it is a command issued from the cavern of my mind.

Before he can answer, a deafening rumble in the ground knocks us to our feet, shaking the floor, and I know from where it comes. I spring to my feet and drag Bilbo up with me, racing with him through a different passage. My need is temporarily forgotten and replaced by another need to slay this dragon.

"Thorin, where are we going?"

"We are going, Master Baggins, to kill that dragon."

And somewhere, somehow, the voice, the voice from my vision, speaks to me.

" _It is beginning. You will fall….but it will feel like flying…"_

 **A/N**

 **Thanks so much for reading! also, thank you to those who have favourited and followed, even those that have been here from the beginning. It means a lot to me.**

 **As you may realise, things are getting a bit more tense for Thorin...and what could have happened to Gwen? Stay tuned for the next chapter to find out!**


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

I wake suddenly, taking a quick breath, feeling as though something is pressing down on my lungs. Cold, a numbing cold.

And a pain in my leg that feels as if it's on fire.

But I'm not outside. I'm lying on a stone floor somewhere. For a moment I suspect it's Erebor that I'm in, that someone found me and took me back inside, but as I look around I quickly rule that out. The walls are not the stone in Erebor, but a lighter coloured, almost sand - like stone. Taking another deep breath, I sit up in order to have a good look at where I am. On my left is an entrance cut in the wall, through which bright sunlight shines. Morning has dawned.

It appears that the snowstorm is over...just like that, as if it never happened.

 _What happened to me?_

I push back the blanket to inspect my injured leg. There is a gash that runs along the side of it, but it is beginning to scare, and looks as if it has been cleaned.

I struggle to get up, my legs weak, but when I'm up I ignore the dizziness and look around. I walk through the arch way and out onto a balcony. Mountains stretch out around me, like a rocky bedspread, and fall and rise dramatically. Snow coats them, fresh from last night's blizzard.

I recall the argument, with a twinge of sadness.

 _He is under the influence of the dragon sickness, it's not his fault._

Yet I blamed him for it. For it all. And I left, I abandoned carelessly.

I was stumbling around in a stupor of rage and sadness, a prison of insecurity, my own grief building like walls around me I could not see over.

I realise now that if I had seen over them, I could've helped Thorin. Regardless of whether he loves me or not, I could've stayed there. As a friend and an ally, and stood my ground, instead of retreating like a fool.

"Miss?"

A voice says, a woman. I turn around. She is wrapped in the same scratchy blankets I had on me, and her face is wrinkled but her eyes stand out, like conkers, the deepest brown.

"You must come inside. You will catch your death out here."

"How did I get here?" I demand, staring at the woman.

"You were found, last night, lying in the snow, just a little way from the Mountain, by Bard. He brought you back to Dale, which was nearer than Esgaroth. It is barely hospitable here." She mutters darkly.

"Are just you and Bard here?"

"Aye, and some others. We went with him to find this place, to make it fit for the people to stay in."

"But why?"

"Have you not heard the rumours, miss? The tales? The king has returned to the mountain halls. The dragon will not lie dormant any longer, amongst the gold and the riches. It will come," she looks into my eyes and I feel a shiver run down my spine. "And when it comes, fire will run red like blood down the streets of Laketown, a tidal wave of destruction, leaving death in it's wake. We must evacuate now, before it is too late."

 _Is there really no hope?_

Maybe I was just naive for thinking that there would be a chance or saving lives. I always thought that the prophecy just that, a prophecy, not something that would necessarily come to be.

I think of Bilbo and Thorin and the dwarves in the mountain.

 _Do the right thing._

I could go back. I could do it.

I could help them slay the dragon, and then those poor townsfolk would live their lives free from terror.

"Take me to Bard." I say suddenly, without registering it before it comes out of my mouth.

She frowns. "But surely, you must rest, you are injured."

"I have things to discuss with him." I reply firmly.

She sighs. "This way."

I follow her back through the archway, across the room and through a crumbling doorway, down some steps and onto a greater balcony.

There he stands, facing toward the Lonely Mountain, silent and still.

When he sees me he turns, and a flicker of recognition crosses his face.

"Gwendolyn. Good to see you." He says, nodding..

"I want to thank you for helping me."

"I wouldn't call it helping." The side of his mouth quirks up in a crooked smile. "But go on."

I smile. "Alright, you saved me. And I'm thankful. But I need to get back."

He frowns. "Back?"

"To the mountain."

"You can't go back." He shakes his head. "It's not safe, and besides, you're injured."

"Nowhere is safe anymore!" I exclaim desperately, staring at him. "Surely you must realise that?"

Bard steps towards me, lowering his voice to a hushed, frantic tone.

"I realise it. But you can't go back to the mountain. It won't be long until Thorin falls for that dragon sickness, and then we're all doomed."

I glance away uncomfortably. I don't want to tell him, but he deserves to know the truth, as he seems to be the leader of the people.

"What is it?" He urges.

"It's Thorin, he's…" I swallow nervously. "He's already fallen under."

Bard stares at me, seemingly incapable of finding words.

"I realised it, when I was walking away last night…" I gaze over the morning snow, seeing how stunning it looks, how fair and cold. "He was going to sacrifice the life of one of the Company for something he wanted, and I tried to reason with him, but...he became taken over with rage, like I'd never seen before, like there was a madness to him...it must be. There's no other explanation."

"This is more serious than I had suspected." Bard says. "And even more reason for you to stay away."

I shake my head, my eyes pleading with him. "I have to go, Bard. I have to help him, and the others."

"Why? What do you owe to them?" He exclaims.

"I don't owe them anything. You don't have to be in debt to someone to help them. That's not how the world should work."

I look at my feet.

I want to help the dwarves, and I just want Thorin back, the normal Thorin, the one I first met. In that argument I saw the sickness rising up inside him. I never want to see him like that, I just want to see him, proud but kind, and loyal to a fault. Why does he have to be affected so? And why does the pain have to run deep into me like a sledgehammer, an endless tirade of grief?

I feel Bard's eyes on me, looking at me carefully.

"You...you care for him?" He says slowly, almost like he doesn't believe it.

I snap my head up to look at him. "It doesn't matter."

"Stay here, Gwen." He begs. "Help. God knows those poor souls need it. People like us, we have to stick together. Those dwarves, they will never repay you for your kindness, Gwen. They will just take what you give and walk away with it."

I shake my head. "If we kill that dragon, then lives will be saved. It's our only option, now. And as soon as it is killed, I will make sure Thorin repays you for your hospitality in Laketown."

Bard scoffs. "He would never listen to you. His pride blinds him."

"But I wouldn't let it," I implore. "I would see it through. Please, just let me try."

He looks at me, long and hard, and after a while he sighs. "Very well. I will get a horse for you."

"Thank you." I say, meaning it.

"Just...just stay safe. He is ruled by a great power, the dwarf king, and now that he is aware of it, he will be more dangerous than ever. I don't want you getting hurt." Bard looks at me in concern.

"I promise I won't."

"Take these with you." He hands me a pile of blankets. "The cold is biting in the open air."

I wrap them around me, and once the horse is called, Bard helps me mount it before I set off.

"Good luck, Gwendolyn." He says. "And take care."

As the horse breaks into a canter, I feel glacial wind rushing past me in a freezing wind, ruffling my hair that whips around me like a cloud. The blanket slips off one of my shoulders, but I don't notice it. I'm too focused on the thought of getting there. When I get there, I'll figure out how to get in, but for now I just have to push past the wind and the snow.

I have to continue through every blizzard, every storm, every obstacle that comes my way. I have to do it for Thorin. I have to help him. I can't leave him now - I can't leave THEM now, not now that the worst has come to them.

This time, I'm not going to turn my back on them, not like the Elves did. Thorin has faced enough disloyalty in the past. He has been let down too many times, this time I have to be there for him, have to help him through this battle.

When I arrive, the snow is falling thick and fast, in freezing sheets that threaten to slow me, to deter me.

 _Keep going...do it for him._

I climb the steps with renewed energy, a fire inside me, ignited by the one goal in my mind. That is what spurs me on. My legs, though they burn, do not surrender to exhaustion, and my body doesn't crumple and fall as it did last night.

I won't give up now.

To my surprise, the door is not completely shut when I finally scramble up onto the rocky ledge. It is slightly open, a crack of light filtering through. I know it is going to take all of my strength to shift it.

I place my weak leg in between the crack and balance my weight on it my good one, pushing against the door with all my might, but it doesn't budge. I shove harder, but the stone doesn't move under my hands. I wedge my whole body between the crack, pushing against it with my back, so hard my face is scrunched up with the effort, and it finally gives. I stumble inside, catching my breath, and race up the steps taking them two at a time. Just when I reach the top, and earth - shattering rumble shakes the floor and makes me fall flat on my back. I grip the walls for support, reeling from the suddeness of it.

I get back up onto my feet and run further and further through corridors, down, down to the belly of the mountain. Erebor is a maze, but I search for the center, the fire destroyed pits of hell.

I know the dragon is there.

I never really considered it before, what it would actually be like to encounter one. I was so focused on getting here, I didn't think of what I would do if I ran into it.

My palms are slick with sweat and my heart thunders, but I carry on running.

Suddenly, my foot misses a step and I tumble forwards, falling down the flight of stairs and landing painfully at the bottom, but I haven't broken anything. I take a right, following the ominous rumbling sounds, and careen straight into a huge chamber, filled with gold.

The chamber.

I don't stop to marvel at all the gold, although it is pretty impressive, but run to take cover under one of the stone arches as the thundering noise becomes louder and louder. Now, my heart is pounding so hard I'm sure Smaug will hear it. I know he is here. I can sense it. You can always tell when a dragon is in the room - you don't have to see it. You can feel it.

Then, a blinding flash and heat surrounds me on both sides, but the wall shields me from any direct blast.

I'm not reassured, though.

Smaug has spotted me.

I don't move from my spot, shaking with fear. I hold my breath, waiting for the right opportunity, hoping it will come.

"Who goes there?" A voice as loud as a thundercrack bellows. A deep, threatening voice, full of promises, but not of the good kind. Promises of pain, promises of death.

I don't move an inch.

"I know you're there. I can hear you breathing...but you are no dwarf." Smaug hisses maliciously. "What are you?"

I don't reply, scared of saying nothing and of saying anything. Scared of doing anything.

"Show yourself…." he snarls. "Or I will make this stone crumble over your head."

Tentatively, hardly knowing what I'm doing, I reach up to the ceiling and grasp at a handhold, hanging from it. If I scale the ceiling, he won't see me, because of the overhang. I can then climb along the path. I peer at the edge of the room and see a set of stairs. I can escape that way.

"Where is Oakenshield, and his friends? Are you one of them?" His voice rumbles again.

I place my foot on another hold, pressing on it, testing my weight. I bring the other one up and hang, spider - like. Slowly I begin to crawl, taking each handhold as it comes, trying to keep my limbs steady, trying to make them stop shaking. .

"You cannot hide from me…."

I climb faster, reaching the middle. This is it. If I drop now, I will be seen, and killed.

A deep growl emanates from Smaug's throat, and I hear movement, coins shifting, and more fire only just missing me, by a hair's breadth.

I reach a particularly tricky place, where there is nowhere to put my right foot, which happens to be my bad leg. If I try to move it, spasms of pain shoot though it. But I have to move soon, or there will be more fire. I shift it, and suddenly my leg is in agony, and I cry out in pain, falling to the floor in a slump.

It is only a matter of seconds before I hear the monumentous growling, erupting from deep within him, and I know I must get up.

 _Get up. Get up._

Shivering, mouth open in a silent scream of pain from the agony in my leg, I force myself to escape, to run. To run faster than I have ever run before, cancelling out the pain, the adrenaline overpowering every function, spurring me on.

"I see you, human! You cannot escape!" Smaug clamours, almost gleefully, but in a cruel way. I race towards a crossway in the paths, and spot Dwalin, followed by rest of the dwarves, rushing for the nearest side chamber. A look of shock passes his face as he sees me.

"Gwen! You -"

A deafening blast of fire interrupts him, ripping through the air around us, making sweat drip on my brow.

I can feel the heat everywhere. .

"Come on!" I yell, gesturing to a doorway not far off. He nods and we all dash for it, footsteps as loud as thunder now, a red light pointing to where we are for Smaug. I pray we can make it in time.

All of a sudden, heavy stone erupts and crumbles behind us, as Smaug hits it. I duck my head,just in time.. Another archway is broken in front of us, but I scale it, trying to ignore the paroxysms of torturous pain in my leg.

 _Ignore the pain...the only way out is in front, not behind.._.

And then, the door is before us, and we slip through it. I don't think he saw us go in, as he tumbled another archway just as we got through it, so that would've hidden us from view.

Dwalin leads us down some steps and into another small chamber that looks like it was once an armory. But I fail to notice this as I collapse to the ground, a shaking and sweating mess, out of breath and dizzy. I glance at my leg and almost faint at the sight. The gash has ripped open even further, and is dripping blood onto the floor.

I lean back onto the wall and close my eyes, trying to squeeze the tears back, trying to fight the blackness that threatens to overcome me.

"Gwen?" Says Fili. "Are you alright? We didn't know where you went, until I saw the blizzard. I hope you got back in enough time - it was terrible out there, it-"

I cry out in pain, gritting my teeth, an almost animal sound issuing from my mouth, cutting him off. I scrunch my eyes up header, and clench my fists.

Something tells me perhaps Bard was right, that I should have remained in Dale to recover. Perhaps I should've listened to him, but I remember the feeling of overwhelming love that had come over me, the desperation...I feel it now, I try to push it to the forefront of my mind, but the pain is almost too much to bear.

I supress another cry of pain, and push my feet into the floor.

"Gwen! You're hurt!" Bofur shouts, jostling to kneel at my side.

I shake my head.

"What happened?" Fili says, staring at my leg in shock.

"Nothing, let's just...keep moving." I manage to get out.

Nori looks like he's about to interject, but Dwalin stops him, if a bit reluctantly.

"The lass is right. Smaug is on our tail, we have to evade him." He says.

Kili frowns. He looks much better than the last time I saw him, less pale. That Elvish medicine worked wonders on him. "But if Uncle knew of Gwen's injuries…"

I shake my head again, fighting tears, because I know the answer. "He's not here now. He wouldn't care, anyway." I mutter, and push against the wall with my hand to try and stand up. My legs feel ominously weak, but I promised myself I would not give up.

I test my weight a little, and pace a bit, and soon my leg doesn't feel as weak, though it still aches.

Suddenly, a rumble sounds from above. Everyone goes silent, and with faces filled with dread, we stare up into the space above, praying for it to fade out.

And then another, louder this time.

"We have to go." I say, in a trembling voice, barely above a whisper.

But everyone is captivated by the rumbling sound, frozen in their places, unable to fight the fear.

What do we fight fear with?

Once I may have said bravery. But our only option now is to run.

And then it becomes a thunderous noise, shocking us all into motion.

"RUN!!" I scream, and they don't need to be told twice.

 **A/N**

 **thanks so much for reading :)**

 **I want to make these chapters good quality and exciting for all of you, so sometimes that means an update may be slower than normal, so I'm sorry if that happens, but I'm trying to make it the best it can be.**

 **Our next POV is Thorin...stay tuned for chapter 28!!**


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

_It's reckless...temperamental…_ _Dangerous, really dangerous…._ _But..what if it worked?_

Inside my head, a war is brewing. A war of voices, and they are getting louder by the second. There is only one I listen to, and it's the one I want to hear.

 _The plan will work, and you will be famed for it. You will be remembered as the king who slayed the dragon_.

I race through endless halls and chambers, barely hearing the pitter patter of the Hobbit's feet and the flustered panting as he struggles to keep up over the chanting in my mind.

 _Do it, do it...there is no stopping now…_

The rumbling is growing louder and more ominous by the second, and I follow it, closer and closer to the furnaces and workshops of old where I know the dragon lies near.

Under all the piles of gold, I imagine him now...He clambers clumsily out, the great brute, taking what he believes to be his, lusting after something he does not deserve to desire, his huge flank brushing past sapphires, diamonds, jewels that would have taken one dwarf months to uncover, and he goes lumbering past, uncaring…

Suddenly I hear footsteps coming up beside me.

"Thorin, Smaug's all but destroyed the west side of the gold chamber. He's coming for us now. What do we do?"

Panic rips through Dwalin's eyes for a moment, and I know he's scared. They're all scared.

"We need to go to the furnaces."

"But why?"

I explain to him my plan, and his eyes widen. He raises his eyebrows.

"Thorin, are you out of your mind? There's no way on Arda that that's going to work!"

"You don't have a choice." I snarl. "You're my subject. You're all my subjects, and you listen to me. We'll make this plan work, all of us, and no dragon shall ever walk these halls again!"

The plan is set into motion quickly. Everyone's got a job to do. Bombur at the furnaces, Bilbo at the lever, poised to pull. All the while Smaug is taking shots at us, breathing huge amounts of fire, unwittingly lighting the stone - cold furnaces.

And over it all, all the clamour, I can still hear the dragon, thundering through the halls, and I know we haven't got much time.

We melt the gold quickly and I give Bilbo a shout to pull the lever and release it into the tunnels, where it runs like liquid lightning, so precious, so beautiful…

 _All in good time._

I jump down from my position and race to a wheelbarrow, jumping on the bright rivers of liquid gold. I can't help but feel a sense of pride and pleasure...my gold, for my hands only.

Bilbo distracts Smaug whilst we mould the giant dwarf sculpture out of the gold, and bind it in rocks tied with ropes we will pull when the time is right.

There is no time for doubt now. Not when we are so close...

This is it.

This is the moment.

This is the moment I will take the risk…

I give the signal to the others and they pull with all their worldly strength on the ropes. With a snap, the bindings fall to the floor with a crashing sound that makes me wince. I watch everything unfold in anticipation.

The dragon's eyes light up in wonder and awe at what he believes to be his prize, his plaything to enjoy…the way he marvels at it, examines it in pure amazement.

And it destroys me that for one second it is his...for one second, of vivid desperation, the dragon only has eyes for the gold, and he can pretend it belongs to him.

The anger boils and swirls around inside me, and I cannot wait any longer…

 _This should show him. This should show him who this Mountain belongs to…_

Then, it happens. Something inside the supposedly solid gold statue moves. The dragon is too caught up with gawping at it to realise, before the last suddenly bursts forth, hitting the dragon square in the eye, and soon the whole thing is melting fast into liquid gold, spilling out all over the vast floor, all over Smaug, painting him invisible amongst the molten riches.

Cries issue from the Company, of joy and success, when the whole thing settles and nothing makes a move.

To my surprise, Bilbo's roar of pride is the loudest.

I look at every member of the company, relishing in their expressions of joy, until I notice something, or rather, someone.

Arrows peeking out of a quiver, a shining blade strapped to a belt…

Her dark hair stands out a mile, so illuminated that I can see strands of auburn and even gold in it, and for one moment I am rendered speechless by her, before the anger washes over me again, and the sight of her makes me sick.

But she doesn't smile.

She waits silently, and all too soon I realise how relevant her trepidation is, how bitterly true her expression is. The minute she closed her eyes, as if in pain, I know something is not right. She seemed to anticipate it before it happened.

A agonisingly loud roar, loud enough to crumble the foundations of Erebor, causing everyone to put their hands over their ears, only to find it doesn't drive out the noise.

The dragon is dragging itself out of the shiny depths, snout flared, jaws open in a cry of anguish. He stalks furiously through the liquid, shouting out almost incoherently.

"I will show you who is king under the mountain!"

My face falls, knowing all hope is lost. There is no time for pathetic attempts to distract Smaug, there is no way to stop what is going to happen.

I know what will happen, and there is no way to stop it.

The huge crashing, booming noises of a stone wall collapsing, as a dragon bursts angrily through it.

We all race across the now solid gold floor, to the destroyed entrance, rocks tumbling and crashing haphazardly to the ground. A dragon will always leave destruction in its wake… and I know just what kind of destruction lies ahead.

What happened to Dale will soon happen again.

History will repeat itself.

And there's nothing we can do about it.

" _What have we done_?" Comes the horrified whisper of Bilbo, mirroring the fear and horror in our hearts.

 **A/N**

 **hi there!**

 **I realise that it has been quite a long time since you have seen an update from me and I apologise for this. Life caught up with me and studies and planning for Christmas, and it all became a bit too much and I wasn't able to update.**

 **I hope your Christmas has been a good one and you have had some time to be with loved ones, which is so so important at this time of year.**

 **I promise that updates in future will be swifter, and I will try to get on top of things!**

 **next POV is Gwen's. I hope you are enjoying the way this is going, I know it seems like it is all sticking very much to the canon of the book right now but soon there will be developments that you will find exciting (I hope)**

 **stay tuned!! :)**


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

Without even knowing what I'm doing, I run out into the night, following the fiery wake of the dragon. Blind terror surges through me.

The terrible realisation of the mass death of the people of Laketown washes through me...no, it tears through me. Tears spill from my eyes as I run towards the distant spires of the town, knowing that the dwarves behind me will do nothing to save them.

I see the dragon spiraling up into the sky, sending droplets of gold falling, glistening through the sky. They scorch my skin, a reminder of the massacre that is to come.

All I can see is it flying off in the direction of the town. It's too late for them to evacuate now, there is no way they will get to Dale in time. And they wouldn't be safe in Dale anyway. They're not safe anywhere.

It makes me sick to think of all the lives that will be lost.

As I peer out on the horizon I see Laketown lit up like a million tiny lamps, but as I look closer I see the lamps are not lamps at all, but great leaping flames, reaching higher and higher by the second, spreading wildly.

The dragon swoops around like a giant shadow puppet, jaws spread wide and flames ripping from its throat.

They don't stand any chance.

I fall to my knees, crying freely, but my broken sobs are the only sound that fills the silent, deadly night. All around me is moonlit darkness, and the flaming town in the distance, like some twisted stage, some macabre play where the only finale is death and destruction.

Even in my fear, anger - crazed mind, I know there's nothing I can do that would help. I'll just end up getting killed myself. Another dead body amongst the hundreds that will lie at the bottom of the lake when dawn comes. After this night, nothing will live.

Nothing lives, except the dwarves that hide in their mountain of gold.

Someone catches up with me, footsteps on the ground, a hand gripping my shoulder.

"Lass?" Frowns Bofur. "You alright?"

I shake his hand off. "No, I'm not alright. Are you telling me you're all just going to sit here whilst people DIE in that town and do nothing about it?"

Bofur shakes his head sadly. "There's nothing to be done, lass.."

"For heaven's sake!" I yell frustratedly.

I storm off towards the group gathered at the entrance, glaring at each one of them accusingly.

"People are dying! We have to help them, now!" I shout angrily.

"Gwen, we can't do anything -"

"I don't care! Something must be done!"

"Lass, you must listen. It's that great beast, against us. An army of a thousand could all be wiped out in two minutes by that dragon. Just a couple of dwarves, a hobbit and a human woman isn't going to make a difference. Surely you must understand -"

I cut Balin off, speaking with a voice quiet, shaking with fury. "Death. What does it even mean to you? What does a hundred bodies lying at the bottom of a lake, forgotten forever, mean to all of you? I'll tell you what it means. It means hope that is lost, whether there are no survivors or many. It means more families are torn apart. It means more people have to wake up the next day and realise they're alone and they don't have anyone to help them out of their grief. That they have to struggle on alone through the darkness with only painful, scary thoughts to accompany them. It means another person looking at the heavens, contemplating whether or not to join their lost families. It's not a choice. You are driven to it because there is nothing else to turn to. It means the whole world will carry on, not knowing how that person feels, one lone person in a sea of...nothing. I can't sleep anymore. I don't sleep except for in the early hours when I'm so exhausted I can't even shed any more tears. And I can't sleep knowing there are more people that feel like that...like I did. Like I do, still, at times. No one should."

I breathe in and out slowly, closing my eyes to press away the tears, to fight the fear.

When I reopen them, the dwarves and Bilbo all stare at me, and this time I don't even bother to read what's on their faces.

"If we can't help them now, we have to do something when dawn comes...offer them shelter, and warmth. It's not much but it will mean a lot. If it means anything to you."

All is still for a while, my words echoing into the night. No one says anything. They don't know what to say.

I slowly raise my head, my misty eyes meeting Thorin's.

But I find nothing in them, just a haze of greed and nothing more. As if he doesn't see me. As if all he sees is gold.

And in that moment my heart breaks.

Low, troubled voices coax me out of the haze of sleep, but they're not directed at me. I close my eyes, secretly listening to the conversation of two of the company.

"I'm worried about him, Balin. What if he doesn't recover from this sickness?" Comes Fili's worried tones.

My heart instantly goes out to him. After all, he's the next in line from Thorin. What a great burden he must carry, and along with looking after his younger brother and trying to help Thorin, too.

Balin sighs. "Nothing is sure for certain, yet. But…"

I can almost hear Fili's ears perk up. "But what?"

"If there's anyone that could rescue him...draw him back from the brink of insanity, it's… Gwen."

My heart hammers in my chest. I shut my eyes tighter and try not to hear any of what's being said. .

"Gwen?"

"Aye...that girl..I am certain she loves him, and very deeply, too. I saw her, the day after she went out in the storm. A fierce determination in her eyes. It was as if...as if nothing was going to stop her from saving him."

There is silence for a minute, and for a moment I think that they have realised I'm not asleep, but when Fili speaks again I almost sigh with relief.

"Gwen...loves uncle? But...do you think he knows?"

Balin chuckles. "Laddie, I'm certain he is as much in love with her as she is with him. But for now...he is blinded by greed, and power, and a desperation to rule. As soon as he sees reason, he will see that he loves her. But for now...it is she that must rescue him. That is what must happen.

I lay on my back for hours, staring up into the sky, but not really seeing anything. Balin's words keep replaying in my mind.

 _She loves him_.

When he's around me, I feel light all of a sudden, as if I could float away. His attitude, whilst moody, gives away to a warm and caring heart, loyal to a fault. His heart is kind, and passionate, and I know if he loved someone, he would do anything to protect them. That's just his nature.

But it's not just that I want to be protected by him. I want to do the same for him, to shield him from the evil that threatens to overcome him.

And that night, at Laketown, looking out at the stars. He said he couldn't live without me.

And I can't live without him.

In fact, all I see is a dark void where he is not, and I realise I love him.

I'm in love with Thorin Oakenshield.

At the worst possible moment.

Because, like Balin rightly said, he is overwhelmed by the dragon sickness.

But I'll do anything to save him. I must save him. I gave up on him once...I swear never to do that again.

I don't even care if I don't get anymore sleep after that. All that's in my mind from then on, every hour, when dawn comes and when it passes, is him. Saving him. That's why I'm here. I will remind myself of it, even in the darkest moments, because it holds truth, it holds meaning. It is the purest feeling.

Morning dawns with a sick feeling in my stomach, and clammy palms, as if I'm a child again and I have just done something wrong and I am about to be scolded. But this time it's much worse. Much, much worse.

I think I'm the only one awake in this cold, depressing morning. The clouds shroud the sun from reaching us, threatening another storm. I drag myself up from my uncomfortable sleeping position and onto my feet, walking until I approach the outcrop of rock that looks out to the landscape of the mountain and what lies beyond.

I can see the smoke from here, curling tendrils like gnarled fingers, reaching up towards the sky. The lake is rendered invisible because of the thick mists that blanket it, and with the ruined town silhouetted against the brooding sky, it is a tragedy.

Suddenly I feel a gust of wind blast the back of my neck, whipping my unruly hair around my face. I grip my blade, in anger or desperation, or some kind of immaterial emotion.

It doesn't matter what I feel, because that won't change the course of time.

I hope Smaug is dead.

I hope there is something to this black, black day.

"I suspect the dragon is dead," says a deep voice from beside me. Thorin.

I resist the urge to look at him. I can't look into those glazed eyes and know whatever I say is warped by his thoughts.

"I hope." I reply, staring at the smoky desolation.

Even from here I can see the ruined buildings scattered, and the clock spire is gone. There is nothing. This is a dragon's feasting table, or what's left of it, after Smaug has toyed with it, devoured or, destroyed it in every way he wants. Like a burned dollhouse, once cherished by its residents, it doesn't stand.

It has fallen.

Esgaroth has fallen, and will fade, into distant memory, just like Dale and many other cities the dragon has set his eyes upon.

"We must go and help them," I say, trying to make my voice steady. "We have to do whatever we can."

"There is no time." Comes the reply. "We have to defend ourselves. This wall that has collapsed must be rebuilt…"

I finally turn my head to look at him incredulously. "A whole town is dead, and you want to rebuild a wall? A tragedy has taken place, for the second time in your history, and you want to protect yourself?"

"Now is the time for vigilance, if there is no other. We do not know what other evils lie around the corner. We must protect ourselves from them." Thorin argues firmly.

"But what about them?" I point at the ruined landscape. "Who protects them?"

Thorin simply stares at me, daring me to challenge him.

"Apart from the Woodland Realm, you're the nearest aid they have. If nothing else, you have shelter. Thranduil would supply the food, and Erebor must still have some blankets, and those great furnaces, they surely must -"

"If you think for one second that Thranduil will help those starving people, you are mistaken!" Thorin spits angrily. "He does not help anyone but himself. I have seen his selfishness at work. I know the depths of his treachery."

A powerful fury takes over me, suddenly, making my hands shake and my blood boil. My eyes flash dangerously.

"He is not the only king around here with clouded vision," I hiss. "You are, too. Don't you see what this gold is doing to you, Thorin?" I feel desperate now, my heart trying to leap out of its cage, fit to burst with a need to rescue him from himself.

"Do you not see what you have become? Your only care is for yourself and your treasure. But it is only cold metal. It has no beating heart of its own. It is lifeless, and unfeeling, and it will not give you what you need. Love. Gold will not love...nor will it guide you when there is no light. The only light it gives casts more darkness upon you," I plead, on the verge of tears.

"Please, see outside of yourself. See everyone who loves you and doesn't want this for you." I beg, tears filling my eyes. I want to reach for him, and hug him, and heal him. I want Thorin back.

But all he does is stare at me unfeelingly, eyes cruel and unforgiving.

"I will not have my plans foiled by a reckless, emotional woman!" His voice raises dangerously. "Go, go back to the hovel from whence you came. You have no place here, amongst us, with your Elf blood," he sneers, "you are nothing. Go!"

His words sting, but I don't let them overcome me. It's not him, it's not him, I repeat to myself. Over and over.

"I will not go. I will not leave you." I say resolutely.

A smouldering look burns in his eyes. A flicker of recognition, and for a moment I think he understands me. For a moment I think he might be saved.

Alas.

"Fine." He hisses. "But get her out of my sight." He demands to Dwalin.

"Thorin, don't you think that's -" Dwalin begins gently.

"Don't argue with me!" He shouts suddenly, eyes flashing. "Take her away somewhere, where I can't see her. If she will not leave I will give her incentive to."

Incentive? As if I could ever take an incentive to leave him.

Dwalin nods in defeat and sends me an apologetic look. I give him a sad smile and follow him inside, past Thorin's angry glare, past the sympathetic looks of the others.

"Lass, I'm sorr-" he begins, but I cut him off.

"It's fine." I struggle to plaster a smile on my face. "It's not your fault."

Dwalin looks at me, frowning slightly, but the sadness is still in his eyes. He nods.

He leads me down, down through the silent halls until he comes to a short passageway. He leads me down it, and for a moment I feel afraid, for there are dark shadows upon the walls, that cling and climb over them.

 _They're just shadows. Get a grip._

At the end of the dark corridor is a door, which he opens. When he does, a cloud of dust blows out from it, making me cough.

The cloud clears, and the room behind it is revealed. It seems to be a bedchamber, but the bed is long gone, and the furniture is decimated, along with the hangings on the walls. Everything is covered in a layer of dust.

Dwalin rifles around for a candle, and when he finds one, he uses his torch to light it. It is a meagre light, but it does fill the room, breathing life back into it.

"Is there not a window?" I ask. Then I follow his eyes over to a filled - in hole.

He turns to go, leaving me with so many questions, and not enough answers.

I stare at him desperately, not quite ready to accept my fate. "Dwalin, please, just let me help- Thorin doesn't have to see me, but I want to help him. Please."

All he does is shake his bald head, and he looks at me sadly from under his bushy eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, lass. This is for your own good."

With that, he shuts the door. I can hear him locking it.

And I know that he's taken the key.

 **A/N**

 **Hi everyone. I know it's been a while and I apologise for that. I needed some time to get my head together and unfortunately didn't find the time to give you a update.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's a bit angsty and it will be like that for a while until things perk up for Thorin and Gwen!**

 **Let me know your thoughts in the reviews and don't be afraid to PM me any questions you might have.**

 **stay tuned :)**


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